The Fourth Bride
by Biancamella
Summary: Alucard's self-control withers as fate presents him with another possible Bride, straining his relationship with Hellsing and humanity all over again. Rated M for intense violence, language, gore, and sexual content. Alucard X OC
1. Chapter 1, Prologue

Because every good story needs an ominous prologue.

Enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1, Prologue<strong>

He inhaled deeply, that monster that needed no breath, savoring the rotted copper stench of old blood. And so much of it. He absently ran his tongue along his lips, already sticky and half-dried. Something about Romanian blood…

"Sir?"

He opened his eyes and realized that his head had rolled back. He lowered his gaze from the ceiling and settled it on the soldier beside him.

"Is it clear, sir?"

His lips parted slightly as he turned his face up again and closed his eyes. Deep, animalistic breaths sounded from him as his chest swelled over and over. He did this for almost half a minute, and it took every shred of self-control that the soldier had to keep himself from trembling as he listened. The chest swelled one last time, and no shuddering exhale followed. A fine rivulet of sweat stung the soldier's eye as the monster spoke:

"Clear."

The soldier watched him leave, watched his heavy boots make no sound as he picked his way through the vampire corpses and disappeared up the crypt steps into the night above.

* * *

><p>Deep below the crypt, in a room hidden from eyes and black magic alike by holy seals, Magnus stirred in his bath of blood. The presence was gone now, the presence that Magnus had never dreamed still existed. Slipping down further into the ancient sarcophagus, he let the blood cover him completely once more, let it run into his nose and mouth and eyes. A dull splash sounded, and he felt a rush of heat on his chest; his remaining servants were pouring fresh blood in for him.<p>

His powers were growing, surely, but to consume the blood of The First, The True Immortal, The No-Life King... Magnus needed to sleep again, he knew, but he couldn't. Under the pool of red, he opened his mouth impossibly wide and began draining the sarcophagus.

He imagined it was The Prince's blood.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much to everyone who reviews after reading. I'm updating for you. ;}

**9.10.15 - Minor edits to this chapter. No revisions.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Lolly's Grocery cut a shabby figure as the sun sunk behind it; bad masonry, a pot-holed parking lot, and the smell of cat urine marked it distinctly from the clean-cut Aldi across the street. Bracken and pineapple weed had forced its way out of the building's crumbling foundation to bow over the sidewalk, brushing ankles and calves as people passed by. From a corner that was missing several bricks, a single rusted gutter leaned far out from the building as though trying to escape.

Inside, Catherine pulled her work polo away from her chest to fan herself. The building had no central air system. Instead, mini tabletop fans had been placed next to each of the three registers. All they really did was blow the hot air around, but Mr. Lolly wouldn't be moved to spend any more money than the average miser. Catherine's fan rattled violently, more so than the others, but she had learned to ignore it; Mr. Lolly had superglued the fans to the countertops to prevent theft.

"Hey, Cat. You going to Eddie's later?" Marlena, the other register girl, called over. Marlena was short and pudgy, high school-aged, with a tanned complexion that Catherine would guess was more a product of salon visits than genes. Her bleached hair was pulled up into a high ponytail that flipped this way and that when she talked, as she had a habit of bobbing her head. As far as Catherine knew, Marlena was working at Lolly's for her summer break. Though she only worked part-time and Catherine full-, they saw plenty of each other, sometimes to Catherine's agitation; Marlena spent more time on her phone than she did helping stock or check, and she'd taken more sick days in three weeks than Catherine had in half a year.

The latter leaned on her countertop and into the fan. "Nah, I've got stuff to do. Aren't you under the drinking age? It's like, what? Eighteen here?"

"I'll be eighteen next week," Marlena said. She suddenly got an incredulous look, her eyes looking raccoon-like under all of the smudged eyeliner. "Can you even drink back home? Legally?"

The fan wasn't doing any good. Catherine switched it off and her register stopped rattling. "Yeah. Why?"

Marlena shrugged. "I don't know. I just didn't think you were, like, you know, that old."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Catherine said, feigning anger. She pulled a sweaty strand of hair away from her cheek. "Twenty-two isn't old!"

She could admit, however, that she looked older than she really was. Stress had slowly dissolved her natural smile and had given her a serious look that most people mistook for sadness. Purple half-moons bruised beneath her eyes, giving them a dark and brooding appearance, and her white skin created a harsh contrast that made them seem all the much darker. Had she worn her hair down she might have looked more her age, but it was so much easier to tug her long, dark hair into a tight ponytail.

Still, she squinted at Marlena. The pudgy girl gave her a "whatever" smile, shrugging and clicking her fake nails on the counter.

Two hours later, they had seen a total of three customers. Currently there was only one in the store, an old woman in a woolen shawl shuffling around the pharmacy. Catherine marveled that the old broad hadn't suffered a heatstroke; Catherine herself was ready to have one, and she was in a polo and capris.

As the old woman began making her slow and steady way to the registers, Marlena put her cell phone in her pocket and tramped off to the bathroom. Catherine narrowed her eyes at the bouncing ponytail as it disappeared down the canned goods aisle. _Thanks a lot._

Laxatives and prune snacks. Catherine rung them all up and tried to not look at the old woman, who was giving her a glare through her big bi-focals as if daring her to say something about the purchases.

"Have a nice night," she told the woman as she handed the plastic bags over. The old woman ignored her and shuffled out the door. It slammed behind her.

Marlena all but came skipping back from the bathroom, her chubby cheeks glowing with fresh blush. "Time to go home!" she said, snatching up the front door key from under her register.

Catherine closed her register down and started wiping counters. It was dark outside now. She would go home, maybe order a pizza, have a few beers, watch a movie-

She jumped as a loud bang sounded behind her, coupled with Marlena's screech. Catherine turned to see Marlena standing back from the door, the key still in it. On the other side, a forty-something year-old man was pressed against the glass. His head bobbled drunkenly, as though it were too heavy for his neck.

"Jesus!" Marlena said. "Fucking _Jesus_!"

Catherine came over to the door. The man was staring at each of them through the glass, his eyes moving back and forth. They were red rimmed and veiny, as though he were sick or on something. He was wearing a suit, but it was stained and torn along the hems. His hair was a filthy, matted mop. Catherine looked down and saw that he only had one shoe.

Marlena recovered and slapped the glass angrily, and the guy's nose bumped against the door. "Bloody hell's wrong with you?!" she screamed at him. Catherine pulled her backward roughly and tapped the sign in the window.

"We're closed," she told him. "We open again at nine tomorrow." The man blinked, his eyes appearing to get larger as he leaned forward and began to…

_Sniff?_

Catherine felt her lips open and draw down in disgust. The guy was trying to smell her.

"Oh my god," Marlena said as he opened his mouth and ran his tongue up the door. "What the actual _fuck_?" Catherine shook her head, watching the man lap at the door. His eyes rolled up until only the whites shown, fingers squeaking in his saliva as he dragged them down the glass.

A camera sounded behind her, and she turned to see Marlena holding her phone up to take a picture. "No fucking way," Marlena said, shaking her head back and forth. Her ponytail waggled.

Catherine stepped away from the door as the man began to grind himself against it suggestively, his lips drawn up into a smile as he lapped away at the glass. His tongue was so long it was almost freakish. Catherine looked at Marlena. "Call the police."

"Why? He's just some barmy tramp." Marlena nodded at the door. "See? There he goes."

Catherine looked back to see the man stumbling down the sidewalk, away from the store. He walked bent over to the point that one of his hands almost dragged the ground. It looked horribly unnatural.

"Arsehole," Marlena laughed as they slowly went back to cleaning up.

* * *

><p>Within an hour, they had wiped everything down with a bottle of diluted cleaner and swept up. The two girls gathered the trash from all of the cans in the store, dumped them into two big bags, and headed to the dumpster with them. Catherine held the door open for Marlena as they stepped into the stock room.<p>

"Where are they?" Marlena said, and Catherine looked around for the stock guys. Eddie, the other high schooler, and Dale, the much older man, were nowhere in sight. On the table by the wall, a cigarette smoldered in the ash tray.

"Probably out back," Catherine told her. "Or in the restroom."

_"Loo."_

"Whatever."

They reached the back door that lead outside, and Catherine held it open again while Marlena squeezed by. Marlena stepped out and something abruptly collided with her, knocking her out of Catherine's view. It was like she'd been hit by a train, the speed at which she'd vanished. "Wha-," Catherine began, the heavy plastic bag slipping from her fingers.

A horrible scream sounded, and she rushed out of the doorway. Marlena was lying in the dirt, and someone was sitting on top of her. It was the man who had harassed them earlier.

"Help!" Marlena screamed, clawing at his face with her nails. _"Help me__!__"_

Catherine threw all of her weight at the man as she rushed to push him off of the girl, but it was like throwing herself at granite. Faster than her eyes could follow, he snatched one of her arms and tossed her away, much like one would a Frisbee. Catherine landed on her back and rolled into the fence. She tried to sit up, wheezing to regain the breath that had been knocked out of her.

The man turned his attention back to the thrashing, wailing Marlena. With one hand he clutched a fistful of her hair, and then promptly banged her head against the ground. Marlena's wails choked for a second, but didn't stop. He did it again, harder this time, and Catherine saw Marlena's flailing arms fall away from him. Her head lolled limply to the side when he let go of it. The man leaned down over her.

Catherine was up now. Coughing, she desperately looked around for a weapon, something, _anything_ to hit this guy with. She spotted a chunk of rock the size of her head behind the dumpster, and she hefted it up. The man was doing something to Marlena's neck now, his hands groping under her polo all the while. He didn't even look up as Catherine ran over to him with the rock above her head. She swung it straight down with all the force she could muster.

The solid reverberation of the hit thudded through her arms. The man fell to the side and a dark pool began to well under his head. He twitched. Catherine dropped the rock and frantically began searching Marlena for her phone. The girl was bleeding out of her neck a little where the man had clearly bitten her, but the bite wasn't too bad. Catherine found the phone and was dialing when footsteps made her look up.

"Oh my god, Eddie," she said, pushing herself up and running over to the boy. "This guy came out of nowhere. I hit him and I think he's dead, but I'm not sure. Oh. Oh my god, _Eddie_…"

Eddie was bleeding. A lot. In fact, an entire chunk of his neck was missing. His overalls were black with blood, and it was smeared all over his face and in his hair. He blinked slowly at her, and then turned his face upward.

Catherine stared in mute horror as he began to sniff the air, his eyes rolling back to show the whites. She turned and ran for the door, clutching the phone as it rang for the police. Marlena's attacker was still unconscious, and she hoped to God that he would stay that way while she-

The door was locked. She yanked on it again irrationally in her dismay. She had forgotten to prop it, and they were locked out.

She spun around to see Eddie stalking toward her, his hands raised like claws. She looked around, wide-eyed as she tried to find an exit. A nine-foot wooden fence surrounded the back of the store, and there was nowhere to go without the key to the dumpster gate. A voice came from her hand, suddenly. From the phone.

"Please help me!" she screamed at the dispatcher. "This guy attacked us and my friend is-" She stopped and turned to run from Eddie, who was darting toward her now. She reached the fence and dropped the phone to climb it, but didn't get halfway up before fingers hooked into her shirt and yanked her backward. The ground met her back hard and she coughed, breathless again. Eddie stood over her, a black silhouette in the streetlamp overhanging them. He lifted his head and inhaled deeply.

Catherine rolled over and began scrabbling away. The little breath she had went out of her in a whoosh as Eddie fell on top of her. She felt his bloody fingers snake into her hair and clamp it tightly as she squirmed and clawed the dirt in front of her, trying to escape. She opened her mouth to scream, but she didn't have enough air. Instead, a weak cry came out:

_"Help…"_

She felt a tongue on her neck, and through all of the fear and repulsion she realized that it was cold. There was a hissing sound off to her left, and she rolled her eyes to the side.

Eddie was slammed off of her with enough force to send her rolling across the ground. She didn't hesitate this time. Breath or no breath, she levered herself up and half ran/half limped toward Marlena, away from the awful growling and hissing behind her. The man was gone from Marlena's side. Catherine fell beside her and shook her, begging her to wake up. She looked back and saw the man and Eddie circling one another, and realized that it was them making those inhuman noises. She shook Marlena harder, her eyes welling with tears. _Please get up, please get up..._

A terrible screech pierced the air, and Catherine cried out, covering her ears in pain. She looked back to see the man on top of Eddie, to see Eddie's head being pulled backward. The man gave a hard jerk, and Eddie's head promptly tore off of his neck. Catherine screamed.

The man tossed Eddie's head to the side and turned to look almost languidly back at her. He stepped off of the corpse and began making his way toward her.

Catherine couldn't carry Marlena. She couldn't even drag the girl. Desperation took hold again, and she grabbed up the rock she had used earlier. Standing quickly, she readied it in her hands. The man paused when he saw this, and a slow smile spread across his features. His mouth became progressively wider until he laughed, and a cold wash of fear drew goosebumps on the girl's arms.

His mouth was filled with razor-like teeth. Shark teeth.

The rock suddenly felt too heavy in Catherine's hands, and she almost dropped it. Her legs went weak, her whole body trembling as though it might collapse at any moment. She had never imagined that her death would come like this. She had never imagined monsters were real either, but here was one laughing at her now. As the man stepped out from under the streetlamp and into the shadow, she saw his eyes flicker red.

Marlena stirred beside her.

Catherine looked down at her, then back up to the man prowling toward them, and a resolve hardened in her. It almost wasn't real, all of this. It was that idea, the idea that this wasn't real, that dissolved her fear. Her fingers dug into the rock, and she moved to stand protectively in front of the groaning Marlena.

"Stay back!" she screamed at the man. She hefted the rock menacingly. "Stay back or I'll smash your fucking skull in!" The man stopped again, but he didn't laugh this time. His teeth bared, and his glowing eyes flared wide. Catherine found herself baring her own teeth and taking a step forward. "_Stay back_!" she roared.

The man lowered his head and charged her, his arms stretched in front of him, fingers hooked into claws. Catherine took a step forward and swung the rock right before he reached her. It crashed hard into his jaw, but it didn't stop him from falling on top of her. They hit the dirt hard and she squirmed out from under him. She hadn't done as good a job of bashing him this time, though, and he was only dazed for a moment. One of his arms flashed out and snatched her wrist, and his grip was so tight that she cried out.

Any other time, she wouldn't have been able to lift a rock this size with one arm, but adrenaline boosted her strength. Hoisting the make-shift weapon high, she let it crash down on the man's face. The grip on her wrist loosened slightly, and Catherine hoisted the rock up again.

She felt the rock travel down further into the flesh as part of his face caved in. Blood spurted up into her face, and she closed her eyes and pressed her lips shut tight against it. She broke the man's grip and took the rock in both of her hands, lugging it upward and down with all her might.

Again.

And again.

_And again._

When she tried to lift the rock once more, she found that her arms simply wouldn't. She turned away from the man before she opened her eyes, and when she crawled over to Marlena she made sure to not accidentally look at him.

The girl's eyes were fluttering open, but it didn't seem as though she could see anything. Mustering all the remaining strength she could, Catherine willed herself to stand. She wanted to run to the cell phone lying by the fence, but she couldn't. Her legs felt as though they were operating completely separate from each other, and she found herself focusing hard to keep her balance. When she reached the phone, she almost fell over bending to pick it up. Despair overcame her when she realized it was broken.

Lolly's didn't have a phone, and she had left her cell at home today. She would have to go find help, and pray that Marlena didn't suffer any sort of brain damage or die while she was gone. She turned around and started toward the door when a gunshot made her jump.

It had come from inside the store. She heard another one and started again. Close by, tires squealed. Through the fence she could see black SUVs running up over the curb, and the relief was so much that she sunk to her knees. The police were here, thank God.

She found herself smiling, her eyes wet with joyful tears as the door opened. Her smile faded, though, when a tall figure stepped outside, his long coat drifting after him. He wasn't dressed like a police officer. Not at all. She watched him walk, glide really, over to Eddie, then over to the man whose face she had smashed. He stood over it for a moment, silent, as though he were wondering how this had happened. Catherine suddenly felt the inexplicable need to defend herself, and she opened her mouth.

"I had to," she said softly. The man looked over, and she was surprised that she had heard him.

Orange glasses glinted beneath his wide hat.

"I had to," she said again, louder this time. "He tried to kill us." She was suddenly very aware that her hands and forearms were slicked with blood. A fleeting thought: _What if Marlena dies and they think I killed everyone?_

The tall man turned back to the body. Lifting a gun that she hadn't seen him carrying, he shot the dead man in the chest. To Catherine's horror, the dead man's arms shot up as if he were still alive, and then he all but exploded into what looked like ash. She watched the tall man turn and shoot Eddie's corpse, and that exploded to ash too.

"How?" she breathed. The tall man lifted his nose in the air and sniffed, then slipped the gun into his coat. He turned and began walking toward her, creating an engulfing shadow as he approached.

He wore tall black boots and a charcoal suit, complete with a red cravat and overcoat. On his long hands were white gloves marked with strange symbols. His wide-brimmed hat wavered slightly as the breeze caught it. When he spoke, his voice was deep and gravelly:

"You killed him…"

Catherine blinked, her mouth falling open as she looked up into the orange glasses. "No,I- I was-."

"… with a _rock_."

She stared at him, completely at a loss for words.

He began to laugh.


	3. Chapter 3

**7.13.14 - Catherine's conversation with Integra has been revised.  
><strong>

**9.10.15 - Minor edits. No revision.**

Thanks for the reviews. ;} You guys are the best.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Catherine had no idea what to say. She looked down at her hands as the tall man stood over her, laughing hysterically now. Her skin was dark and slick with blood, and she suddenly felt sick. She looked past the man at Marlena; the girl was still lying on the ground, unmoving. Tears pricked her eyes.

"Stop it," she whispered. The man laughed and laughed, almost doubling over in his mirth. "Stop it," Catherine said louder, her ears starting to burn with rage. She rose up onto her knees and screamed at him, _"Stop laughing!"_

He stopped. But he was grinning at her now, as though her anger were amusing him too.

"Was it difficult for you?" he asked, his teeth flashing sharply as he grinned. "Or did it come naturally, killing another creature like that? So brutally? So _mercilessly?" _He spoke with an odd, blended accent; his soft vowels were very British, but he pronounced his consonants in a thick way that was reminiscent of Eastern Europe.

Catherine glowered up at the man, and she realized that she was so angry she was crying. Her fists clenched, the blood squelching between her fingers. "You can't laugh," was all she could grate out. "You can't laugh at this." The man grinned wider, and Catherine's expression of rage melted to shock.

His teeth. His teeth were just like the dead man's teeth, long and sharp.

"A human can't, perhaps," came his deep voice as she stared, "but a monster can." He reached up with deliberate slowness to pull the glasses from his face. "And I am a monster. Aren't I?"

Catherine's breath hitched when he revealed his eyes. Like the dead man's they glowed, but the red glimmer was deeper, much more intense in the tall man's eyes. Hell's fires could have been contained in those eyes.

"God," she breathed.

"Is not here," the tall man answered.

A shuffling sound came from behind him.

Catherine broke the hypnotic eye contact to look around the man, and she saw Marlena coming toward them. She struggled upright and hurried around him to Marlena, who was staggering in a strange, hunched-over position. Catherine grabbed hold of her shoulders to steady her.

"Are you okay?" she said. Marlena shuddered, but she seemed to be able to stand on her own. Catherine took a step back from her to assess her injuries. "It's okay," she assured the girl. "I think the police are here-"

Marlena raised her hand swiftly and drew her nails down hard across Catherine's cheek. Catherine shoved her back with a scream, and the other girl tripped over her own feet to fall awkwardly in the dirt. As Catherine gasped and held her bleeding face, Marlena slowly levered herself up, pausing only to stick her bloody fingers in her mouth. Catherine backed away from her as the she sucked under her nails and licked at her fingers. She met Catherine's eyes, and Catherine saw that they glowed red. With unnatural speed, Marlena suddenly kicked off of the ground and launched herself at her.

A metallic click sounded in Catherine's right ear. In the span of half a second she saw the long slide of a silver gun come over her shoulder, then a deafening bang pierced her eardrum. Marlena was a burst of ash in mid-air, and then the wind carried her away. Catherine could only take shallow, shuddering breaths as she watched the ash cloud that was Marlena dissipate.

"That was close," came the gravelly voice into her good ear; she could feel the man's cool breath on her skin. "I do believe she would have killed you." Catherine gasped softly when she felt his nose against the side of her head, but she was still too shocked to move.

"What's happening?" she whispered. She was trembling. "What is all this?" There was a pressure on her belly, and she realized that the man had wrapped an arm around her.

"You're bleeding," he said softly. The pressure on her belly increased as the man drew her back against him. She felt no body heat from him. The man put away the gun into his coat, freeing his other hand to stroke her hair gently and turn her wounded cheek toward him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him open his mouth, and then his cold tongue was sliding up her cheek, lapping the blood away.

_Push him away!_ her mind screamed, but her body was too disconnected to obey.

His lapping was gentle as first, but now his tongue moved roughly against the wounds, causing her to wince. His arm tightened almost painfully around her, and she gasped when she felt her feet leave the ground.

"Your blood," he breathed against her wounds. "So full, so rich…" Catherine felt the soft fabric of his gloved palm against her forehead as he pulled her head to the side. His breath tickled her neck as he nosed her hair out of the way. She felt his tongue on her skin, and a soft "Oh" escaped her. Why wasn't she fighting? Screaming? His cold lips moved against her throat, parting, and Catherine felt her eyes closing in the strangest and most pleasurable anticipation. _Please, yes…_

Her body jolted and there was a sudden pressure on her neck. An intense thrill shot through her, and she cried out. The fingers of her right hand dug into the arm holding her up, and her other hand reached up to clutch at the man's hair. She seized a hard handful of it and heard him growl against her skin.

She was vaguely aware that he was biting her, but she felt no pain. Instead, an intense heat radiated out from where his teeth were embedded in her flesh. It was glorious, this heat, as it bloomed from her neck and coursed through her body. Her heart felt hot in her chest, like a throbbing cinder, and with each pulse it sent the heat back up to her brain. That heavy heat stoked itself deep in her abdomen, too, and with a moan she squeezed her thighs together to accommodate it. The pleasure was so fierce that it was agonizing to not. The man groaned into her flesh, his fingertips digging into her side, as she ground her hips back against him.

She didn't want this to end. Pulling the lock of black hair clenched in her fist, she urged him on. She felt his long fingers rake through her own hair, freeing it from the tie to fall loose over her shoulder. He grasped a tight fistful of it and tugged her head back in a dominating way. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp as the pressure against her skin redoubled, and she stared sightlessly up at the stars. Something hot was running down between her breasts, soaking her shirt. _Don't stop don't stop don't stop…_

"Alucard."

The pressure released and Catherine gasped, tugging the long tresses and begging it to start again. "Please," she whispered aloud. A strong hand untangled her fingers from the hair they clutched, and she felt the ground beneath her feet again. The world spun, and she overbalanced forward, but that strong arm reappeared and snagged her by the waist before she could fall.

"Release the girl."

There was a moment's hesitation from the tall man, but he obeyed the voice. Catherine wobbled in place, the world slowly settling now. In front of her, a figure was doubling together to form a man with long, blonde hair. No, a woman. She wore a sharp-cut blue suit and a neat crimson cravat; a large silver cross gleamed at her throat. She regarded Catherine through big, round glasses, her blue gaze impassive.

"Can you walk?" she said, her voice deep for a woman's. Catherine nodded slowly, using the woman as a focal point to keep her balance. "Then go inside. Do as the officers tell you."

Catherine did. A man in a SWAT-like uniform was waiting at the propped-open door, and she let him take her by the arm. His arm badge read "Hellsing." Catherine looked over her shoulder before she was led away, and she saw the tall man staring intently after her.

_Those eyes…_

* * *

><p>"Rabies?!" Catherine cried. "Rabies doesn't do that! Rabies doesn't make your eyes glow, or, or… any of what happened!" She was sitting in a cushioned, high-backed chair. When she had been led out of Lolly's, the officers had put her in an SUV and slipped a blindfold over her eyes. She had protested at first, but a threat concerning a gag and a pair of handcuffs quieted her. A short drive later, she was led up some steps and into a building, and subsequently into the small, high-ceilinged study she sat in now.<p>

She looked at the blood transfusion drip that snaked down into her arm, then back at the officer. He had removed his helmet and mask, and turned out to be quite a handsome fellow with his dark eyes and curly hair. Still, he was infuriating.

"It wasn't rabies," Catherine asserted. "That's bullshit, and you know it. They were like zombies, they were _monsters_."

Mr. Handsome shrugged. "Rabies can be scary like zombies," he said with the slightest German accent. Catherine just pursed her lips and glared at him.

The door opened, and the officer jumped up. The woman in the blue suit walked in carrying a small briefcase, followed closely behind by the tall man, who wore an almost sullen expression. Catherine's blood still stained his face and neck, and she found herself avoiding his burning gaze as much to keep from looking at her own blood as to keep from looking into his eyes.

"That will be all," the woman said, and the officer saluted smartly. He stepped out, closing the door behind him. Catherine shifted uncomfortably in her blood-stained clothes as the woman sat down in a leather chair across from her. The briefcase rested next to her expensive shoes.

"Why do their eyes glow?" Catherine asked, her gaze flickering up to the tall man, then away again when his stare seemed to intensify.

The woman opened a drawer in the side table next to her and withdrew a cigar box. She selected one, lit it, and took a deep drag. She exhaled. "Because they're vampires," she said matter-of-factly. The woman was quiet for a moment, as if letting that sink in. "You saw quite a lot tonight. Usually there aren't any survivors for us to deal with. I apologize for the inconsistency in the explanations you've received."

Catherine looked down at the ornate rug beneath the woman's feet. "Vampires are real," she said, and the woman confirmed with a "Yes." The girl shook her head slowly as if in disbelief, but she did say, "Makes sense." It would have been harder to accept if she hadn't just been attacked by the monsters. Wait...

_The bite!_

"Am I going to become a vampire?" Catherine said quickly, her eyes widening. The woman offered a dry smile.

"No."

"So why did Marlena..." Catherine trailed off. It hurt to think about her.

A thread of smoke curled from the woman's cigar. "Your friend's bite was different than yours. Much different." She didn't explain further.

The tall man shifted behind the woman's chair. He was tilting his head to the side, watching her still.

"Who are you?" Catherine asked.

"We are Hellsing, an organization dedicated to eradicating vampires in the name of God. I am Sir Integra Hellsing, the Director."

Catherine's eyes wandered back to the tall man. "He's with you?" she said. Their eyes met for a brief moment before she broke the contact to look at Integra. The dry smile returned.

"He is," she replied. The director looked sideways at the tall man. "And I apologize for his behavior as well. Now…" She lifted the briefcase onto the table and placed it facing Catherine. "As you can imagine, we don't want the world in a panic over this. I have here 75,000 pounds, which should hold you over for a while until you find another job, or help you to afford a psychiatrist should you need one." The briefcase clicked open and Integra showed her the money. "You will take this and leave here, after your transfusion is finished, of course, and you will not say anything to anyone about what you saw tonight."

The reality of the situation sunk in. They expected her to pretend like this had never happened. Catherine thought of Marlena, of her family, and she wondered what sort of lie they would be told. And Eddie's family, and Dale's… It seemed so cold, so wrong to hide the truth.

"If you didn't want this getting out, why did you tell me anything?" Catherine said, her voice carrying a note of bitterness.

Integra smiled that dry smile again. "When these things happen without explanation, they can drive a person mad. It's better to know something that makes sense." She crossed her long legs elegantly.

"Besides," she said, "no one will believe you anyway."

* * *

><p>Catherine was pushed into a car with the briefcase and taken away. Sir Integra Hellsing watched from a window, her cigar pluming smoke from the corner of her mouth, as the SUV drove through Hellsing Manor's gates. She thought back to the conversation she had had with Alucard behind Lolly's.<p>

"You lost control," she had said to the vampire. "Why?"

Alucard looked at her, his face and neck stained with the girl's blood. He didn't speak.

Integra took a step forward, her eyes sparking with anger. "Answer me, Servant!"

"She is a Bride," he said softly, and Integra tried to keep the surprise from her face. This was not something she had ever expected to deal with. Sure, he had seeked out Brides in the past, but he wouldn't do this again. He wouldn't go after this girl like he did Mina Harker… Would he?

"Alucard," she said, leveling her voice as best she could, "this is a different time. Things have changed. You must forget about this, let the past rest. Do you understand, my Servant?"

The vampire's eyes darkened, with anger or sorrow Integra wasn't sure, and then he bowed deeply. "Yes, my Master," he said.

Now, as Integra watched the car disappearing down the long road in the distance, she wondered if Alucard would be able to obey her orders, and what she would have to do if he could not.

* * *

><p>Deep below, in Hellsing Manor's basement, Alucard sat in his chair. The girl's blood had crusted and turned dark on his skin, but he didn't wash it away. Instead, he breathed deeply, taking as much of her scent as he could from the dry blood. Sweet virgin blood. The scent would fade soon, and the idea threatened to drive him mad. He wanted more. He <em>needed<em> more.

His long fingers squeezed the chair's arms until they splintered. He stood abruptly, grabbed the solid oak chair, and hefted it above his head. The huge, heavy piece of furniture that would have taken three men to carry smashed to pieces against the stone floor as though it were made of twigs. He snatched up the table then, and hurled it violently against the wall twenty feet away; it crashed with so much force that it exploded to splintered chunks.

With nothing left to destroy, Alucard fell to his knees and began dragging his fingers in long grooves along the floor, his teeth grinding together and his eyes flaring. The stone yielded under his fury, and soon the gouges were nine inches deep. He stopped then and stared for a long time at the ruts he'd made. His self-control eventually returned, and his blood cooled. Integra had told him to let the past rest, but she didn't understand.

That girl was living here, in this time, _for him._

Alucard slowly went to his coffin, like a man in a dream, and climbed into it, sealing himself in with the girl's scent. He stared up at the lid in the blackness and replayed in his mind her clutching his hair in her little fist, her panting, her grinding against him, the ecstasy of feeding from her. He imagined stripping the clothes from her, running his bare hands over her smooth flesh. He would feed from her wherever he wanted: her white neck, her slender wrists, the soft swell of her breast. And when the courtship was over he would truly have her, this girl who was made to serve him, from now until The Last Day.

The No-Life King's lips parted, and he breathed her name in the darkness:

_"Catherine."_


	4. Chapter 4

'And do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.'

(Matthew 6:13)

Enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Catherine's eyes fluttered open as a loud _thud_ woke her, followed by muffled yelling. Her alarm clock read 1:24 PM, and she groaned inwardly. When had she ever slept this late? She sat up, then lay back down as nausea gripped her. Her head hurt, and she needed some water.

Carefully, she levered herself up again and pulled the sweaty bed sheets back. Her skin was damp and clammy, and when she turned her head to the side a sharp pain startled her. She reached up and felt something taped onto the skin, like a bandage. She went into the bathroom and was shocked by what she saw in the mirror.

She looked horrible.

Catherine pulled her stuck, bloodstained shirt away from her chest, wincing as the crusted material tugged at her skin; it pulled away with a sound very much like Velcro separating. Next, she turned her attention to the big bandage on the side of her neck. Now that she was up and moving, the spot under it throbbed hotly. She pulled the half-unstuck tape from her skin and lifted it; two deep rows of tooth marks, like an animal's, shown red and swollen there.

'_So full, so rich…' _

_Please, yes…_

Last night hit her in a rush. She remembered the monster that had attacked Lolly's, then she remembered Marlena, Eddie, the tall man, the ashes, the bite, the woman, the officers, the car ride, the transfusion, the explanation, the money. A crush of emotion overwhelmed her at this, and she sank down onto the bathmat, her sneakers squeaking on the laminate floor. Her chest tightened as her eyes squeezed shut and her lips drew open, and for several seconds she couldn't breathe or make a sound. She sucked in deeply.

Then it all came out in a long wail.

Catherine put her hands to the sides of her head and sobbed so hard that her throat went raw. After several minutes of this, her medicine cabinet mirror rattled as a fist banged on the other side of the cheap plaster wall.

"Shut the fuck up!" came a muffled male voice.

The sound sobered Catherine up a little, but the tears kept flowing. She looked at her hands and saw that her fingernails were caked black with blood. The next wave of nausea brought her back completely from the dark thoughts of last night. She gathered herself enough to stand slowly and turn on the shower.

Blood crusts flaked to the floor as she stripped off her shirt carefully, so as not to rub the bite wound, then her pants, socks, and sneakers that she'd slept in. When she was wearing only her underwear, she looked into the mirror again and touched her ribs gingerly; there were five pinpointed bruises there, each the size of a quarter. The purple-ish spots were arranged in the shape of a grasping hand, and for a brief moment Catherine thought that she could feel the pressure of those fingers in her flesh again.

The shower was turned up as hot as she could stand when she stepped into the tub and pulled the curtain. The bandage on her neck had lost its stickiness, and so she held it in place with one hand as she scrubbed herself clean with the other. Diluted blood, now the color of red Kool-Aid, swirled down the drain. It took almost twenty minutes for the water to run clear. Then, when she had scoured the dried blood away completely, and perhaps the first layer of her skin, she stepped out of the shower and stopped the drain. She let the tub fill partially and took a brush to her caked nails until her fingers were pink and raw.

With the tub drained, Catherine leaned on the side of it for a while; the cool enameled steel felt good against her flushed skin. She stood again and toweled herself off, then took another look in the mirror. Her cheeks were rosy from the hot water, but the rest of her skin was wan-looking. The purple crescents under her eyes were darker than ever before, and even her lips looked ghostly.

So much for that transfusion.

Over the next few days, Catherine left her apartment only once to buy antiseptic and bandages for the bite. She ate little and slept a lot, but each day she felt better. The briefcase that Hellsing's Director had given her was pushed beneath her bed and left closed, and the clothing Catherine had been wearing on the night of the attack was stuffed into a garbage bag and dropped out of her window into the dumpster below.

As she watched the bag fall the three stories and _thump_ into the trash, she didn't notice the piece of paper that was stuck to the upper pane of her window. It fluttered gently as she brought the sash down and went back to her bedroom to take another nap.

* * *

><p>"I worry it won't be enough," Integra said. She touched her cigar box, but didn't open it. She sat at her desk in her private study, and so her cravat was loosened and her cuffs unbuttoned.<p>

The man she was speaking to set the tea tray down in front of her and began to pour and stir. He said nothing, waiting for Integra to finish speaking her mind. She continued:

"I understand him, but I don't, Walter. It's as though he's two separate individuals, the Alucard from now and…"

"Dracula," Walter finished for her. He lay the silver sugar tongs down and looked at her. "I'm afraid, madame, that you sometimes mistake Alucard for a 'man' who has mended his ways."

Integra pulled her teacup toward her. She watched the steam rise off of the amber liquid. "I know he isn't a man. I know what he is."

"This occurrence still surprises you."

"This sort of thing isn't him anymore," Integra said, her blond brows knitting together. She left the tea, drew a cigar out of the box, and lit it. "That part of his history is _done with._"

Walter was quiet for a moment. "Would it really be so bad for him to have her?" he said finally, softly.

Integra's mouth opened a little as she stared at the butler in stunned silence. She leaned forward in her leather chair, disbelief making her eyes wide. "This is a girl's life, her soul!" she said, her voice rising. "How could you say something like that?"

Walter didn't explain his thoughts to her. He believed very much the same thing that he knew Alucard did, that this girl was special and that fate simply couldn't be prevented, but this was not what Integra wanted to hear. And so, Walter bowed slightly at the waist and said something more acceptable to her:

"My apologies, madame. I was merely considering that the girl might choose him of her own free will, if Alucard would allow her."

Integra gave a tight, mirthless smile as she watched her cigar's smoke thread up and disappear into the dark ceiling. "Now, you know that that simply isn't his _style, _Walter."

* * *

><p><em>Tap tap tap.<em>

Catherine lay on her couch beneath a quilt as the TV played colors across the dark living room in silence. She had fallen asleep here hours ago trying to immerse herself in British comedy shows, but the humor was simply too dry. Church, her adopted cat, lay curled up in the bend of her knees. When she had first come home the animal had made himself virtually invisible around the apartment, refusing to come to her when she called him and even when she shook his food bowl. Slowly, though, he was warming back up to her.

_Tap tap._

She opened her eyes a little, scratched her arm, and snuggled back down. Her lids were just beginning to droop closed again when she heard a scratching sound. She sat up abruptly and looked down at the floor, fearfully expecting to see more rats (she had adopted Church for a reason). There were none this time, though. The sound continued, moving around the apartment, and she could almost follow it with her eyes.

Church jumped down and darted into the kitchen as Catherine stood up. Wrapping the quilt around herself, she stepped cautiously over to a side table lamp. She turned it on, expecting to see something that had been hiding in the shadows, but the lamp lit the room well and she could see nothing. Where was that sound coming from? It kept moving, and Catherine stepped up close to the wall to follow it. _Are they in the walls now?_ she thought in disgust. From the kitchen Church meowed, and she shushed him; the landlord didn't know she had a cat, and she certainly couldn't afford the pet fee if he found out.

She walked with the sound to her bedroom, and everything went quiet save for Church's meowing. Catherine reached in to flip the light switch on before stepping inside, and when she did she found herself surveying nothing out of the ordinary: a small dresser that contained the little clothing she owned, her bed with the sheets all rumpled up, a nightstand on which sat the empty bottle of antiseptic.

_Scritch scritch. _

Catherine moved around her bedroom, half-expecting something to pop out from the bathroom. She quietly pulled open the top drawer of her dresser and pulled her pepper spray from it. In the kitchen, Church meowed away. She stepped slowly toward the bathroom door. Her hand had almost reached the doorknob when she heard it clearly, coming from her window.

_Tap. Tap tap tap. _

"Catherine."

She whipped around and pointed the spray with both hands, but the window was closed. It took her a moment to see it clearly, and when she did she wasn't sure if she was much more ill than she had thought; there was a face in her window. A shock of black hair drifted around it with the wind outside, and the two fiery orbs that served as its eyes gleamed brightly at her. The girl watched the lips on the face part as it said her name again:

"Catherine… Open the window." Deep and gravelly came the voice, its tone both dark and inviting. She took a step toward the face, and its lips pulled into a wide smile. "Yes," it said soothingly, "be a good girl and open the window for me."

Catherine didn't remember walking all the way across the room, or slipping her fingers under the sash and drawing it up, but what was done was done. She moved back, her mind hazy as one long arm reached in, then the other. The slender gloved fingers gripped either side of the opening, and a black boot perched itself on the sill as he ducked his head inside. The movements were so unnaturally graceful that Catherine could only stare as the man climbed fully through her window and settled his feet on the ground. For the first time, she was able to truly _look_ at him.

His skin was white, even whiter than her own, with the slightest grayish hue. But what made her breath hitch was how unnaturally smooth it looked, like carved marble. He was not wearing the hat she had seen him wearing at Lolly's, and his black mass of hair gleamed too much in the light, reflected too many shades until it all looked like raven feathers. The only things about him that were vaguely human were the light dustings of shadow beneath his lower lids. His eyes deepened to the color of dark wine as he watched her take him in.

He stepped toward her, yielding some of his influence over her to see how she would react on her own. The red-tinged fog cleared from her eyes and she blinked about her. Her gaze settled on him again and her lips parted. Her chest swelled suddenly.

Alucard darted after her as she screamed and ran from the room, the quilt flying back into his face as she threw it at him. He batted the patchwork thing aside and gave chase into the tiny living room where the girl snatched up her TV remote and hurled that at him too; it struck his chest hard, but he felt no pain. Seeing him unfazed, Catherine ripped for the kitchen door, all the while snatching up miscellaneous things to pelt him with.

"Ha… hahahaha…"

The vampire grinned broadly at the tissue box she'd missed him with, his lips drawn up impossibly far; the expression was inhuman, a ghastly smile on a white mask. He looked at her again, his eyes flaring with amusement at this cute game she was playing with him.

Catherine's fingertips were on the doorknob when she felt the lock click. She twisted it hard, but it wouldn't budge. Slow footsteps behind her; she didn't turn around to look, instead fumbling the turn lock with sweaty fingers, but it wouldn't move either. She screamed, banging on the door with both fists. _"HELP!"_

"No one can hear you."

Gloved fingers brushed the back of her neck, and her screams jumped an octave.

There was a horrible yowling suddenly from beneath the card table against the wall. The fingers left Catherine's neck as the vampire behind her made a disgusted sound. She whirled to see Church leap at his legs, claws extended. The cat sunk into one leg and tore up toward the vampire's face, hissing and spitting. Catherine took the opportunity to dart around them both, a silent thank you to Church flitting through her mind as she ran out of the kitchen and through the living room.

The dumpster was below her bedroom window. It was a long fall, and she would surely break something, but it was her best chance. There was a slamming sound, and Church's hissing and screeching became muffled. Footsteps darting toward her now, moving too fast to be human. Catherine shrieked and grabbed hold of the window sill, heaving herself up to dive out.

A cold vice closed on her ankle when she was halfway out, and she howled in terror and pain. She was being drawn back inside now, and her hands scrabbled at everything, trying to grab hold. Long fingers grasped the back of her neck, and when she struggled to break the hold they gave a brief warning squeeze; she choked and sputtered from the simple action.

He had drawn her completely inside now, but her hands still clutched at the window. Her fingers hooked the bottom of the lower sash, and as she was pulled sharply away from it the sash came unlocked and fell closed with a sharp _crack_.

Alucard sucked in an audible breath as he held the squirming Catherine. She had resealed the barrier by closing the window, and he was locked inside her apartment now. A quick attempt to still the girl with his powers made his lip curl in contempt; the barrier prevented his black magic from being used inside of it, too.

Catherine wriggled hard in his grip, kicking with her socked feet, her yells muffled in the arm of his coat. He almost sighed inwardly; this was going to be far less romantic without hypnotism. A sudden pressure on his forearm made him look down; she was biting him through the fabric, squeezing down as hard as she could with her blunt little teeth. The action itself and the sweet fury in her expression were too much, and he burst out laughing.

"That's right!" he crowed. "That's right, my little warrior!" He laughed harder when she redoubled her efforts, thrashing her head from side to side like an animal with a piece of meat; the glass rattled with the reverberation of his mirth.

He goaded her on for almost a full minute, alternately praising her efforts and taunting her. When the pressure on his skin stopped, he rested his cold cheek against her hair. "Would you like me to find a rock for you to bash me with?" Her head remained bowed, her face resting against his arm. Alucard turned her around in his arms. "Have you given up already-" he began to say.

Catherine slashed her hooked fingers across his face, her nails scoring the flesh right below his eye and one side of his nose. She shoved back fiercely from him then, hoping that his grip would loosen with the surprise attack, but he held fast to her.

And he was no longer smiling.

A gloved hand flashed up and grabbed her face, forcing her to look up at him. Catherine felt her pulse accelerate, the heat of adrenaline fear heating her veins as he leaned down so close that his nose almost touched hers. "Watch," he commanded, his eyes bright with anger. His pupils were slits. Catherine struggled feebly as a drop of blood trickled down his cheek and threatened to drip onto her face. The trickle welled up and glinted like a little ruby, right at the sharp edge of his jaw, and then it fell. She scrunched her face up, her eyes squeezed shut as she waited for the spatter, but it never came. The little ruby was suspended mid-drop between their faces for a moment, and then it slowly elongated up and into a rivulet.

The blood that Catherine had drawn from him was seeping back up into the wounds, and the wounds themselves were sealing. The skin closed up, and for a second she only saw shiny scars where the gashes had been, and then the scars faded to nothing. Once again, his face was a perfectly smooth white mask.

"You can't hurt me," he told her. "Do you understand?" When she only stared, he gave her a sharp, violent shake. "Answer me, mortal!"

"I understand," she gasped out, but her mind was still struggling to grasp the unnatural display that had just taken place.

He looked at her very seriously for a moment, and then his expression softened. His grip loosened on her, and Catherine realized that she was resting fully against him, her feet barely touching the floor. His long arm was still crooked securely around her. She was suddenly painfully aware that she wore only a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. Her skin broke out in goose bumps as he caressed her clammy cheek with the side of his hand.

"It was a very good try," he said, and his lips curved into the slightest smile, "but I've grown tired of your games." He slid his fingers up through her hairline and gently, but firmly, clasped a handful of her hair. Catherine whimpered as he pulled her head to the side. "Pull your shirt away," he told her, and when she didn't obey, his entwined fingers threatened to rip that chunk of hair right out of her head.

With shaking fingers, Catherine reached up and grasped the neck of her t-shirt. She saw his eyes get impossibly wide when she didn't pull it down right away, and just when his pupils were tiny slits again she pulled the material back and bared her neck to him. She could have sworn that he gasped softly.

He ran his eyes over the white curve of her throat, and saliva gushed into his mouth. _Beautiful. _The mark he'd left on her had almost healed away, and he felt a profound desire to leave another one. His lips parted, and he ran his tongue over her skin, from her clavicle up to her jaw. She shivered. "Mine," he whispered against her throat. He could feel the quick pulse of her blood against his lips.

Catherine stared wide-eyed at the ceiling as he stroked and kissed and lapped at her throat with that cold tongue. He held her firmly still, but the touch was not aggressive or painful, and the attention he was giving her skin could almost be called tender. She went rigid when she felt his teeth nip her lightly. He laughed softly, and she could feel him grinning against her skin.

"You wanted this last time," he said. "You writhed against me like a snake and begged for more. I want you to beg again." Catherine's face burned with embarrassment at the memory, and he let out a small "Aaah" as though he could feel her skin heat. "You remember it all, don't you?" he crooned. "You remember that _exquisite _pleasure." Her cheeks flushed so badly they turned almost beetroot.

"Let me give that pleasure to you again," he whispered.

His teeth sunk into her flesh.

Catherine's hands latched onto his shoulders as she gasped. There was a split second of pain, then pure pressure, and then the heat began. She gaped open-mouthed at the ceiling, her fingers twisting in his coat. The blaze was already building, stoking itself up in her chest and abdomen and threatening to make her cry out. Sound seemed to fade out altogether, and the ceiling light danced bright jewels of color in front of her eyes. She was no longer here; the vampire was drawing all of her out, and leaving only pleasure. The arm around her waist squeezed, and she could only take in breath in little gasps. She grabbed hold of his head in a bid to pull him closer, her fists clutching at the raven hair. A pleasured growl rumbled against her skin as she tugged, and suddenly the pressure released.

Alucard pulled her face down and crushed his mouth to hers. _This_ was more like it.

Catherine was aware that his lips were covered in her blood, but she didn't take notice until he grabbed her face with both hands and forced his tongue into her mouth. The cold intrusion and coppery taste racked her body with chills. His mouth opened wide for her, and she understood what he wanted. Hesitantly, she pushed her tongue past his lips to taste her blood, and his tongue washed the hot liquid over hers. One of his hands held the back of her head now, and she let out a little sound when the fingers squeezed too hard in excitement.

Alucard withdrew from her and swept her up in his arms. Catherine blinked dazedly as he lay her down on the bed, and her lips were the loveliest ruby color he'd ever seen. He reached up to the light fixture and pinched the bulb, neatly breaking the glass and dousing the room in shadow.

The small bed dipped as Alucard leaned over her, his hands and knees resting on either side of her body. Catherine reached up to him, her eyes dreamily looking at nothing. _Green eyes_, he took note as he gently captured her small hand in his. He turned her arm over and pressed a cold kiss to it.

The girl moaned when he bit her wrist; he had to have more of her, more of this blood. He could hear her heart and knew that it was beating quickly now, much quicker than it should; he had taken too much already, but he couldn't fathom stopping.

_Ruby honey,_ came the hazy thought as he drank. He was in as much of a daze as the girl. He sucked at the wound, draining and draining her.

"Alucard."

… _Integra?_ It took a moment, but the vampire pulled his mouth from the girl's wrist and focused. Yes, the Master was calling him. He looked down at Catherine and saw that her eyes were fluttering shut. He gave her a brief shake and said her name; he needed her to stay awake, to open the window for him.

"Catherine," he said louder when she didn't respond. Her lids opened slightly, and she gave him a moony smile. "Come, stand up." He climbed off of the bed and helped her upright, but she wobbled dangerously when he let go of her. Irritation and slight worry that he was trapped here nagged him, and Alucard snatched the girl up to carry her over to the window.

"Open it," he told her. "Catherine, open the window." She blinked to where he pointed, his finger just out of range of the humming energy that he knew would snap his hand away if he touched the window while it was closed. Catherine reached out and put her hands on the sash. She tugged weakly, and it didn't move. Alucard gritted his teeth in frustration.

"I'm sorry," she sighed sleepily. "I'm so tired." He had drunk far too much from her.

"Try again!" he demanded. The volume and angry tone snapped her awake, if only for a moment. She put her fingers under the sash and pulled again, groaning with the effort. After a few seconds, it edged up an inch; the barrier was broken.

Alucard pulled her away from the window and threw the sash upward so hard that it jammed and splintered at the top. Catherine muttered incoherently into his chest, and he realized that he couldn't leave her here; she needed medical attention, and quickly. Gathering her pliant little limbs up tightly in his arms, he doubled over and stepped up onto the sill. She was already unconscious when he leapt out into the dark.

Catherine wouldn't wake until hours later, when she was inside of Hellsing Mansion with another cannula in her arm.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you for your reviews. ;} A special shout out to **midnightisolde **for pointing out some errors to me that I forgot to go back and correct. I often make plans to revise and edit, and then just don't do it. Let me know if you catch something.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

"… a little over two litres. Some minor bruising."

"She'll recover, though."

"Weakness is to be expected for a while, but yes. Ah, here she is."

Two figures faded into view. They were standing over her, but she couldn't focus on their faces. She tried to sit up.

"Oh, no no no, dear." A pair of hands pushed her gently back against the pillows. "You need to rest, okay? Catherine? Can you hear me?" The voice was not one she recognized.

"Where am I?" she said. Catherine tried to twist her head to look around, and the hands stopped her again.

"Shh shh, you need to not turn your head; you'll pull the bandage off. Just lie still. Would you like some water?"

Her lips hurt when she moved them. "Yeah. Where am I?"

"Hellsing Manor," said a woman's voice, and Catherine flicked her blurred gaze to the remaining figure as the other moved away. She could make out long, pale hair and a blue suit.

"You're lucky I called for him when I did," Integra continued, "or he would have drained you dry. Why the hell did you let him in?"

Catherine frowned up at her. "Who?"

Integra looked into the girl's unfocused eyes and shook her head. "Go back to sleep," she told her. "I'll return in a few hours. We'll talk then."

Catherine felt herself drifting off again as the Director walked away.

Hours later, Alucard watched from the shadows as Walter approach the bedroom door, balancing a silver tea tray expertly on one hand; the tray was an elaborate one with scalloped edges that Alucard hadn't seen Walter use in years. Holding the pretty thing high, the aged butler gave the door a courteous knock before pulling it open, and for a brief moment Alucard was allowed a glimpse of Catherine lying in bed, her dark hair splayed out across the pillows. She sat up weakly as Walter pulled the door closed behind him, and then she was gone.

Inside the room, Catherine did her best to sit up straight and greet the man with the tea. He was tall and thin, with deep laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. His hair was held back by a thin red ribbon, and a monocle glinted over his right eye. When he saw Catherine struggling to sit up, he all but rushed to fluff a new pillow and ease it behind her head.

She thanked him and settled back down, a little surprised at his quickness; he had to be seventy years old, but he certainly didn't move like it. As the man turned back to the tea tray, Catherine reached up and realized that her hair was a snarled mess. Embarrassed, she quickly combed it with her fingers.

"Oh, don't fret over that, Miss Catherine," the man said as he came over and placed a folding breakfast table on her lap. He brought over the tea tray and set it almost proudly on the table. "I hope you don't mind your tea without sugar." His thin lips smiled kindly. "Doctor's orders."

"Thank you," she said again, smiling at what a perfect image he cut of the British butler. She picked up the tea carefully, her hands shaking a little as she sipped at it. It was strong, and the bitterness caught her off-guard. She grimaced.

"It isn't particularly my favorite," the man said apologetically, "but it will do you some good. I also brought some dried fruit if you're up to eating a little something."

Catherine's stomach churned a little at the thought of food. Regardless, she pulled the little bowl over and looked into it. She selected a small piece and held it up for inspection.

"Figs, believe it or not. They might not be pretty anymore, but they're as sweet as any candy."

She smiled at the man again and put the fig back. "Maybe later," she told him, and he nodded in understanding. Her gaze drifted behind the man then, surveying the room for the first time. Faded tapestries hung on the walls alongside painted portraits and landscapes. A painting longer than Catherine was tall hung next to the enormous double-window, displaying nymphs twirling a pagan dance beneath a waterfall. Catherine's eyes moved over the mahogany floors, crystal chandeliers, vaulted ceiling, imported rugs, marble-topped tables, and then finally over the enormous canopy bed she lay in. Her fingers smoothed the silk sheets. She looked at the man.

"How did I get here? And when?"

"Alucard brought you here, Miss. Only a few hours ago."

_That name_. She remembered now. Behind Lolly's, the woman had said that name. A vision of the tall man in the red coat came vividly to her then, and Catherine's stomach churned again. She readjusted herself against the pillows, wincing when she bumped the cannula in her arm. Her eyes trailed up the blood drip to the suspended bag. The man followed her gaze.

"You'll be just fine," he said, a reassuring smile on his lips. Catherine smiled tiredly back at him; she liked this guy. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled a silver something from it, placing it on the table beside her bed. It was a tiny service bell. "Should you require anything, Miss Catherine, simply give it a ring," he told her, "and I will come to you immediately. My name is Walter."

"Thank you, Mister Walter."

The man bowed so elegantly that Catherine stared. He looked up at her. "Just Walter, Miss," he said, his grey eyes sparkling. "Would you like me to bring the tray back later, perhaps after you've had some more rest?"

"Yes, please," Catherine said, and Walter gathered it all up as quickly as he'd set it out. Catherine watched his precise, graceful movements and thought that he moved very much like a man more than half his age.

After being assured once more that he didn't need to fetch her another blanket or softer pillows, Walter started for the door. When he reached it, though, he stopped. He looked over his shoulder.

"Just between you and I, Miss Catherine," he said, "I don't believe he ever meant to harm you." Catherine watched him flip light switch off and slip silently out the door. She was perfectly confused.

In the hall, Walter let the tray bounce lightly with his step. _How interesting,_ he thought. A second before he rounded the corner, he saw the shadows near the bedroom door shift slightly. The gentleman smiled to himself and kept walking.

Catherine watched raindrops pelt the window erratically as a storm brewed outside. Her stomach was slowly settling. She tried to remember exactly what had happened before she had arrived here, but her memory was hazy. All that she could recall was the white face, Alucard's face, that had appeared in her window, and then the city lights dazzling far, far below her. How had that last bit happened? Why couldn't she remember everything? And what the hell had Walter meant just a moment ago? The rain drummed harder on the glass, and she found herself struggling to stay awake. She snuggled deeper into the silk sheets, resolving to worry about everything later.

* * *

><p>She was asleep again.<p>

The shadow slinked along the wood floor like a mass of snakes, writhing this way and that as it slithered toward the bed. Lightning flashed through the tall ornate windows, but the shadow did not disappear with it.

The dark shape stopped several inches from the bedside, then it began to twist upward. The shadow mass grew over six feet tall, and then it leaned over the bed. Catherine stirred in her sleep as one of the shadow's wisp-like tendrils flicked along her cheek; she flexed her fingers a little, then went still again. The shadow shuddered, and then it began to swirl gently around itself like a tornado. Inside of the dark, swirling mass, a figure began to take shape. A gloved hand reached out.

Alucard leaned down close to the girl, gently stroking her hair. His long fingers brushed the deep circles beneath her eyes, her cheek, and then down to the corner of her mouth. A feeling almost like contrition stirred in him when he touched her bruised lips, but it was quickly banished with the desire to kiss them again. He brought his face to hers, his eyes deepening to that wine color as he carefully slid his fingers into her hair. His cold lips parted, and he softly, carefully, touched them to hers. Catherine shifted in her sleep, but when Alucard opened his eyes he saw that hers were still closed. Her mouth moved against his slightly.

She was kissing him back.

His lips drew into a smirk, but it was quickly stolen away when the girl's mouth moved again, this time more forcefully. It pleased him that he hadn't had to use his powers for a response like this, but he didn't dwell on that for too long. Cupping her face in both of his hands, he kissed her harder and harder until she made a pained sound. Humans were such delicate creatures.

Alucard grunted in surprise when he felt her bite at his lower lip. The desire to dominate gripped him, and he parted the girl's insistent lips with his tongue. Then, turning her lower lip out a little, he bit the inside of it just hard enough to make her whimper again. She began to bleed, and the vampire stroked the inside of her mouth hotly, trying to capture as much of the liquid as he could. He felt a warm little hand against his cheek, and he realized she was trying to clutch at his hair. He took the hand in his own and guided it gently up to the black tresses, and the fingers grasped hold there.

The wound in her mouth quickly stopped bleeding enough to satisfy him, and he pulled away. His face turned to the arm beside him, the one she was using to hold onto his hair. Without thinking, he took hold of it and began to suck on the skin. Catherine reached up with her other hand to touch his face, and he found himself more drawn to that arm than the other; the blood scent was heavier. He grasped the other soft limb with both hands and drew his tongue along it. His teeth tingled almost painfully in anticipation, and then his tongue brushed something at the bend of her arm. Alucard opened his eyes.

The cannula was still there, pulsating almost imperceptibly with her heartbeat. Trying to push through his desire to feed from her, Alucard looked closely at the girl's face.

Her skin had a sickly, pallid look to it, no longer the lovely porcelain color he was so fond of. Sweat beaded on her feverish brow, and the waves of dark hair that framed her face looked like a mourning shroud. Her lips, bloodless and chapped, were splotched an ugly purple-green. When she reached out to him again, he saw her muscles tremble at the simple action.

Alucard moved out of her reach, detaching the fingers that struggled weakly to remain curled in his hair. He stood beside her bed then, watching her beseech the air in front of her with her feeble little arms. She coughed, and a little of the blood he'd drawn from her trickled from the corner of her mouth.

Contempt struck him suddenly, and he left her there to clutch at nothing with her ghostly fingers.

* * *

><p>Catherine awoke once more to a pinching sensation in her arm. She opened her eyes to see an older man pressing a wet cotton ball to the place where she'd felt the pinch. The man's mouth was hidden by an enormous gray moustache, as if all of the hair that had once been on his now-bald head had relocated further down, and a tiny pair of spectacles was perched precariously on his bulbous nose. His belly was so pudgy that it rubbed the edge of the sheets while he taped the cotton ball to her arm.<p>

"Am I all better?"

The man started when Catherine spoke, knocking his little tray of instruments and the silver service bell onto the floor. He leaned on the table for a moment, his hand over the left side of his chest. Catherine tried not to smile as he straightened up, his round cheeks puffed indignantly.

"Your transfusion is finished, but you have a lot of recovery ahead of you," he said, straining to bend down and collect his things.

"How long?" Catherine asked, her smile surfacing as she watched him. "Can I get out of bed soon?"

The man rested his hands on his knees and looked at her. His face was red from the exertion of bending down, and his suspenders looked fit to snap. "You need to stay where you are," he said, "for at least twenty-four hours. Forty-eight is preferable, more even, for someone who's lost as much blood as you."

Catherine sank back into the pillows despondently. _Forty-eight hours? More?_ Twenty-four barely seemed manageable. As she considered the awful idea of lying in bed for two days, she pressed her tongue gingerly against a sore spot on the inside of her lip. Had she bitten herself in her sleep?

"I have some iron supplements here," the man said, huffing and setting the gathered instruments down. "You are to take two capsules per day until the bottle is empty. There's also a Tylenol capsule here. I recommend drinking only water or tea for the next week; absolutely no alcohol. If you must get out of bed, don't exert yourself in any way…"

He prattled on like that for a while longer, listing dos and don'ts as he packed his instruments away in a bulky doctor's bag. His fussy manner had Catherine grinning behind her hand despite her fever and lightheadedness.

"… and if any of those symptoms appear, have Walter call for me immediately. I only live twenty minutes away. All right? All right." He waddled for the door without waiting for her to respond.

As he reached for the doorknob, the door opened itself. Walter stepped inside and held it open for the man as he left. All that passed between them was a slight nod of the head. When he was gone, Walter closed the door and smiled almost sympathetically at the girl.

"You'll have to forgive Dr. Sommers," he said as he walked over. "He very much likes the sound of his own voice."

Catherine let out the little laugh that had been building since the doctor had begun fussing. "He seems all right," she said, still smiling. "He took that awful thing out of my arm, so I'm grateful for him."

Walter leaned down and scooped the service bell off the ornate rug. He gave a little huff of indignation to find it in such a state and polished the thing with his sleeve. "I suppose you didn't actually call me, then." The girl smiled apologetically and told him what had happened. Walter closed his eyes, his arched eyebrows bowing into a pitying expression. "This doesn't surprise me." He set the bell back on the table, close to Catherine. "Sir Integra will be here shortly. If you don't feel well enough to see her, I can convey the message."

Catherine didn't feel well, but it seemed rude to deny the visit, especially in the woman's own house. "It's no problem," she told him. Her fingers absently combed through her hair again.

Walter saw her do this, and he went over to a tall oak vanity against the wall. Catherine watched him produce a hairbrush from its drawer and bring it over.

"Thank you," she said warmly. She really liked this guy. Brushing at the tangles in her hair, a disturbing thought suddenly occurred to her. "Walter," she said, "where are all of these medical bills going to?"

The gentleman heard the note of worry in her voice. He had seen her apartment too, when the holy seals had been placed around it, and he understood her trepidation. "There are no bills, Miss Catherine. We've taken care of everything."

"Really?"

"Of course," he said, smiling that kind smile again.

Catherine went back to brushing her hair. "I know that the doctor wants me to stay in bed, but I really can't do that. I need to go home and make sure my cat is okay. I don't really remember what happened last night, but I'm pretty sure his food bowl is empty."

Walter shook his head. "No, madame, you need to stay right where you are. I'll send someone at once to take care of the cat, but you must understand that your body needs to rest." Catherine mumbled an "all right," seeing that she wasn't getting out of the bed rest, no matter what.

There was a swift knock at the door, and then it swung open. Integra strode inside, her champagne hair billowing out behind her. "Miss Catherine," she said, her voice as flat as ever.

Walter moved away from the bedside as Integra approached, to Catherine's chagrin. It wasn't that she disliked the woman; she simply found Walter's presence comforting, and Integra did have a certain seriousness to her at the moment that put Catherine a little on edge. The door closed behind Walter, and the two women were left alone.

Integra took a seat in the chair beside the bed. "How are you feeling?" she asked, but the question felt like it was strictly being asked out of decorum. Catherine wondered if Integra was angry at her.

"I feel much better than earlier," Catherine said. "Look, I just want to thank you for all of this-"

"He's a monster."

Catherine blinked. "Excuse me?"

Integra pulled a cigar out of her blazer, but didn't light it. "Despite his appearance, Alucard is not human. At least, not anymore."

"Um… he's a vampire, right?"

Annoyance flashed through the Director's pale eyes. "He isn't _just _a vampire. He is _the _vampire. The first. I trust you recognize the name Dracula?"

_Alucard... Dracula… _For the love of Christ. How had she not realized that?

"I do recognize it," Catherine responded weakly.

"And you're familiar with Dracula's true name-"

"Vlad Tepes?…"

"Vlad III Dracula," Integra corrected. "Vlad _the Impaler_."

Catherine wasn't sure how to respond. She felt a little faint now, her skin too warm, the air too thick. Integra continued as though she didn't notice the girl's now-sallow complexion, rolling her cigar neatly between her gloved fingers:

"He almost killed you last night. Do you remember?" Catherine shook her head, and Integra leaned forward in her chair. Her eyes glinted behind the round glasses. "He came to your apartment and fed from you until you fell unconscious. If I had summoned him a minute later than I had, we wouldn't be having this conversation now."

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why did he come to my apartment?"

Integra leaned back and touched the cigar to her lips. "He's inexplicably drawn to you," she said, her voice almost thoughtful, "like a moth to a flame. It's reasonable to think that it's your blood that pulls him, the scent of it. Whatever the reason, it's clear that nothing I say or do will keep him away from you."

"What does that mean?" Catherine asked, her voice rising a little in fear. "He's just going to keep coming to my apartment at night to suck my blood until I die?"

Integra waved her cigar as though to dispel the idea. "Calm yourself," she chided. "He won't go to your apartment anymore..."

Catherine relaxed a little.

"… because you're staying here."


	6. Chapter 6

**9.9.15 : The second section of this chapter has been partially revised to include important information about Alucard's relationship with the Hellsing line.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

Catherine felt herself grinning. The Director's statement had caught her entirely off-guard, and the absurdity of it was almost funny: _you're staying here_. When Integra's face remained stony, however, her smile slipped away.

"We'll have your things collected and brought here immediately," Integra said then. "You may keep this room."

Catherine sat up very straight, disturbed by the finality of the statement. She opened her mouth to argue, but Integra interrupted.

"There is nothing else to be done," she said, her tone all practicality. "I cannot keep him away, and nothing will protect you from him. His influence over you is so great that even the holy seals failed. If you go back to your apartment, Alucard will follow you, and there is every chance in the world that he will kill you."

"So I'll go somewhere else-"

Integra cut her off again with an abrupt shake of her head. "There is nowhere you can go. Even if you were to fly back to America, he would follow you. The safest place in the world for you now is here."

But wasn't _he_ here too? How was staying here safe? "No," Catherine said, her voice rising in frustration and fear. "I won't stay here. I want a phone."

Integra gave her an almost pitying look, and anger flushed the girl's face. "You have no other choice," she told her.

"The hell I don't," Catherine snapped. She jerked the covers back from her legs. "This is kidnapping. You're not keeping me here."

Integra stood up, indicating that the conversation was over. "You must understand, this is all for the best."

"Wait!" Catherine called as the Director began walking away. "You can't do this! _Wait!"_ She swung one leg out of bed, trying to ignore how heavy it was and how fatigued dogged her at the effort. She gritted her teeth and pulled her other leg free of the sheets. The Director was opening the door and stepping outside when Catherine finally had both feet on the floor. She tried to stand, but she couldn't summon the strength.

"_You bitch!" _she yelled as the long, pale tresses disappeared behind the closing door. She attempted to stand again, fury granting her enough strength to rise six inches off of the bed, but no more. She sat back down with an exasperated cry, quaking just as hard from the effort as from anger.

* * *

><p>Integra walked quickly down the hall, trying to ignore the girl's screams after her. She hadn't even bothered stopping to lock the door in her haste to leave. This all felt wrong. Catherine was right; this <em>was <em>kidnapping. And if Alucard turned the girl, Integra imagined that that would be slavery, too. Or would it?

She had lied when she said that it wasn't possible to keep Alucard away from the girl. It was _entirely_ possible, but Integra didn't like the idea of what is was going to take. Abraham and Edward van Hellsings' journals, the ones that gave the most detail about how to control the vampire, had long ago been lost in a mysterious fire that had destroyed nearly an entire wing of Hellsing Manor, but Integra had learned enough from Walter to know that Alucard couldn't disobey a direct order; the sigils her great-grandfather had originally placed on him, and the sigils' connection to the Hellsing blood, simply wouldn't allow it.

Which was exactly why she was shocked when the vampire had flatly told her hours earlier that he could not obey her order to not seek Catherine out. Her cigar had fallen from her open mouth, rolling across the desk and leaving a little trail of ash.

"You're refusing an order?" she said, her voice a disbelieving whisper. She watched Alucard dip a slight bow, a courteous gesture that she usually found comforting. Suddenly it meant nothing.

"I am not refusing anything," he replied evenly. "Were I able to carry out your orders, my Master, I would."

Integra had never thought to hear those words out of her Servant's mouth. Alucard had to obey her, under the conditions of the bindings that her great-grandfather had put on Dracula over one hundred years ago. At this moment, she remembered Walter passing on to her her father's wisdom about the vampire: _'Never forget what he is.'_

For reasons she couldn't rationalize, she got angry then. Her chair skidded backward as she stood. "You will obey," she shouted over the desk, "or, I swear before _God_, I will lock you back in that cell!" She hated the words even as they came out of her mouth, but she saw no other choice. She was supposed to protect humanity from vampirism, not advocate it.

Alucard had visibly responded to the threat, his nostrils flaring and his eyes snapping, and then his expression smoothed into something unreadable. "I cannot," he said simply.

Several long moments passed, and Servant and Master held each other's gazes in steely silence. Integra sank back down into her chair, her legs suddenly weak. She had never fathomed the idea of Alucard becoming a menace to humanity again, of having to lock him away, and yet that seemed to be the only option left to her if he refused to obey. But how many more lives would Integra be putting in danger if she locked down her most powerful and effective weapon against the vampires her organization hunted? Giving the girl to Alucard was a horrible sin in itself, but there was the greater good to consider.

And so she forced herself to compromise with the vampire.

She told him that he wasn't allowed to turn the girl, but, infuriatingly enough, Alucard claimed he could not obey that order either. Integra had lit a new cigar by this point to calm her nerves, and it snapped between her fingers at his words. Alucard looked impassively at the two halves of the cigar as they fell onto the desk.

"What order can you obey?" she grated out, her voice not reflecting the fear and anxiety she felt. Perhaps this was it. Perhaps this was the end of it all. He took a step toward the desk, and Integra pulled back in her chair slightly, suddenly apprehensive of the vampire that stood before her. She hardly believed that she had ever found his presence comforting.

Alucard carefully picked up the smoldering half of the split cigar. "If you give the order that the girl should not be turned _against her will_," he said, neatly grinding the cigar out in the ash tray, "I will obey."

That had been good enough for her.

* * *

><p>She had been kidnapped by an organization of vampire hunters. She was bedbound and recovering from a massive loss of blood at the hands of a vampire that, apparently, nothing could protect her from. Not for the first time since the incident at Lolly's, Catherine wondered if she had lost her goddamn mind.<p>

A phone. She needed to focus on finding a phone. Drawing her thoughts away from whether or not she belonged on a psyche ward, Catherine looked around the room. There wasn't a phone in sight, and she bit her lip.

_Well, shit._

She sat on the edge of the bed for a long time then, partially because she was lost in thought and partially because she wasn't sure she had the strength to haul herself completely back up into the bed. She couldn't call the police, so that plan was out. Director Bitchface didn't seem to have bothered to lock the door, but simply walking out of here wasn't possible when Catherine couldn't even stand. So, what did that leave?...

"I'm not staying here," she muttered to herself, her brow set darkly in determination. She reached up and grabbed hold of her IV drip stand, her fingers gripping the cold metal hard. They couldn't keep her here. She would get out of this bed and find a phone -they had to have one somewhere- and then she would call the police. Steeling herself, Catherine leaned forward and pushed off of the floor.

Her knees wobbled at first, and for a moment she thought that she would very quickly become better acquainted with the rug. Just as she felt her knees give a heavy warning quake, she snatched hold of the IV stand with her other hand to steady herself. Her weight shifted away from the bed, and Catherine allowed herself a smile when she realized that she could almost stand upright with the aid of the stand. A little practice and she would be up and walking in no time-

The stand jerked away abruptly as Catherine shifted a little more of her weight onto it. She grabbed it up again, being careful to hold more of her weight herself this time. Looking down, she saw that the thing had wheels.

_Bingo._

It took some practice for her to figure out just how much weight she could put on the stand before it rolled away from her, and as she shuffled her way across the room she almost fell twice. Shaking from adrenaline, Catherine reached the door and put her ear up to it. She couldn't hear anything from outside, and so she twisted the doorknob slowly; no resistance. The door swung open with little effort, revealing an empty and dimly lit hallway. Catherine pushed the IV stand in front of her carefully, its wheels bumping up onto a wine-colored runner rug. Her palms were slick with sweat as she set off down the hall.

The stand rolled easily as she pushed it along the rug that ran the length of the dimly lit hallway and beyond. Suits of armor and display cases stood along both walls, holding everything from glittering jewelry to rusted old weapons, but Catherine didn't stop to look. As she went, she was pulling on doorknobs, trying to find one that was unlocked. No luck. She peeked around a corner, then turned it. More creepy artifacts and locked doors. A few portraits of serious-looking men lined this hallway as well, and Catherine couldn't help but take a moment to look at them. One of the portraits was so old that the paint had yellowed in places. Catherine looked closer and realized that in each portrait, the man wore a cross at his throat. _Priests? No_. She thought vaguely of the Director and the cross pin she wore.

Catherine shivered, as much from the creepiness of the armored suits and portraits as from the temperature. Had it gotten colder suddenly? The thin cotton shift she'd been dressed in offered little warmth, and goose bumps broke out on her skin.

She had to get out of here.

Catherine was pulling the shift tighter against the sudden cold when something caressed the back of her arm. She cried out and whirled around, almost losing her grip on the IV stand. An overwhelming feeling of despair gripped her when she saw the monstrously tall figure looming over her.

_Oh, no. No no no no no-_

The tall man, the vampire, _Alucard,_ reached out, and Catherine jerked away from him. Adrenaline flooded her, and suddenly she had no need of the IV stand for support. She turned to run away, leaving the stand completely. The needle would have ripped right out of her arm if she had gotten more than the two steps that she did.

_Thud._

Catherine stumbled backward and fell, her elbow cracking hard against the floor. She looked up in horror to see Alucard standing in front of her, and she realized that she had crashed into him. But he had been standing behind her when she turned to run! Catherine brought her arm up defensively as the vampire reached down to her, but he made no move to grab her. She looked at the extended hand, then up at the vampire. He wore a blank expression, but the shadows of the dim hallway accentuated the sharp contours of his white face, giving him a frightful appearance. Catherine did not take his hand.

Instead, she levered herself up on her good arm and tried to stand up. Her eyes never left the vampire. She could bring her knees up under her, but when she tried to rise from a kneeling position her legs simply didn't have the strength to lift her. Almost panting from the effort, she sank back to the floor.

"You're hurt," Alucard said, and Catherine stopped struggling to stand. He could smell her fear, smell the adrenaline dying in her as her muscles weakened to a worse state than before. She was feeling pain, too, in the arm that she had fallen on, and he could smell that as well. He extended his hand to her again.

"Where's the Director?" Catherine said, half-demanding and half-cautious. Her eyes moved between the mask-like face and the hand he was offering once more. She remained on the floor.

Alucard flicked his gaze up to look down the hall, then slowly settled it on her again. "Downstairs," he said. His voice was low and coarse.

"I need to see her."

Catherine watched the vampire study her briefly, his eyes gleaming like hot coals. His expression remained unreadable.

"Very well," he said. "I will take you to her." His long fingers flexed lightly, indicating again for her to take his hand. "Come." Catherine stared at the fingers.

"You're not going to hurt me, are you?"

Alucard's lips quirked into a brief smile. "No, girl. I'm under very strict orders to ensure that no harm comes to you. You are safe."

_Strict orders, huh?_ She wished she understood what the relationship was between this the Director and this vampire. It took her a moment to steel up the nerve, but Catherine did reach up to him. Her slender hand disappeared in his when he grasped hold of it and helped her upright. When she was on her feet, Catherine immediately pulled her hand away and shuffled over to her IV stand. Grasping hold of it, she realized that the tube had been yanked out of the bag when she had fallen, and all of the liquid had leaked out. She unattached the tube from her arm then, but left the needle; she wasn't sure she wanted to bleed in front of this guy.

"Leave it," Alucard said when she started rolling the stand with her. He held out a crooked arm for her to hold onto, but Catherine shook her head.

"I can use this just fine."

"Not on the stairs. Leave it."

Catherine blinked at him, at the arm he held out to her. His seriousness and almost-commanding tone left no room for debate. Hesitantly, she reached out and took hold of it, releasing the IV stand.

They began walking slowly, Catherine taking several shuffling steps for every one long stride of the vampire's legs. He didn't say anything to her as they walked, but she could feel him watching her from the corner of his eye. When they reached the top of the stairs he stopped, and Catherine pulled away when he suddenly reached for her with his other hand.

"I will carry you," he said, reaching out to her again. It was more of a statement and less of an offer.

Catherine stepped away again, leaning against the wall when her legs started to give. "I can walk," she said quickly. She would hold onto his arm, but she wouldn't let him pick her up. No way.

Alucard looked at her, his face still blank. He extended a crooked arm to her again. Catherine slowly accepted it, and they took the stairs one step at a time. Even using the vampire as a crutch, it was hard work keeping her balance, and she was tired once they had reached the bottom.

They continued walking, and Catherine was suddenly aware of how big this place was. There were dozens upon dozens of rooms, but because of the heavy quiet she imagined they were all empty. In fact, every step they took seemed cacophonous in the heavy silence of the wide hallways.

The creepy mansion was the perfect home for a vampire, Catherine thought. Her eyes trailed over to the arm she clung to. Using her peripherals, she could see the vampire staring intently ahead and not at her. She dared to take a quick study of his face.

Catherine had never imagined Dracula to look like this, though she knew that pop culture was to blame for that. He was handsome enough, with full lips and strong features, though just the right amount of shadow could make the sharp angles of his face absolutely ghastly. He wore the clothes of a man from Victorian times, and the longer that Catherine stared at him the easier it was to accept that this was really him. This was Dracula. And she was walking arm in arm with him through his house.

The vampire's eyes flickered over to her, and Catherine looked away. After a few seconds of silence, she cleared her throat.

"Why do you go by Alucard?" she asked. She met his eyes again, but broke the contact quickly. The vampire was silent for a moment before he replied.

"Because that is my name now."

"Oh." Well, if that wasn't an unsatisfying answer, then Catherine didn't know what was.

They turned a corner into a hallway with no doors. Catherine couldn't hear any voices, and she looked around her uncertainly. Alucard stopped halfway down the hall, right in front of a full-length mirror with a gold filigree frame. Using one arm, the vampire reached out and grasped hold of it. To Catherine's surprise, it swung open like a door.

"Where does that lead?" she asked, peering down the hidden stairway.

"To the Director," Alucard said.

Catherine could only make out about eight stone steps before blackness swallowed the rest of the view. Her skin crawled a little. "Is she down there in the dark?"

"I will have to carry you now," the vampire responded, ignoring her question. "The steps are steep, and there are many of them."

"I don't know-"

"You wanted to see the Director."

Catherine looked at him uncertainly. The rest of the mansion was quiet, though, so where else could everyone be? "Okay," she said at length, and Alucard leaned down to pick her up. Catherine held onto his coat as he hooked an arm under her legs and another behind her back, gathering her up and lifting her as easily as he would a child. He started downward with Catherine clinging to his coat.

As the light from the hallway began to disappear behind them, Catherine listened for voices, for anything. It was silent, though, save for the sounds that Alucard's boots made on the steps. She looked back over the vampire's shoulder and saw the square of light that had been their entrance closing up. Who was closing the door? Would they be able to get out?

"Alucard?" Catherine said, her voice small and frightened.

"Almost there," came the soft reply.

Something was glowing in the distance. Catherine squinted her eyes at the flickering light, trying to make out the shapes that it was illuminating. They had reached the bottom of the steps, and by the way that Alucard's footfalls echoed, Catherine guessed they were in an enormous room of sorts. They moved toward the glow, and Catherine could now distinguish the shape of a chair, a small table on which the candle sat, and… something else. But the Director was nowhere in sight.

"Where is she?" Catherine asked, but a part of her already knew the answer. Alucard's silence was enough to confirm her fears.

They were close enough for Catherine to make out the third shape, and she felt her skin break out in goose bumps. The third shape was a coffin, a long, dark-wooded thing with a cross and some sort of writing on it.

Alucard went over to the chair and lowered her delicately into it, like a child would a much-loved doll. When he withdrew from her, Catherine pulled her legs up into the chair and shivered; it was freezing down here. She watched the vampire kneel down, bringing his face to level with hers.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Catherine spoke timidly: "Why are we here?"

"This is my home."

Catherine looked around her, at the deep darkness that enveloped most of the room, at the coffin, and then at the long gouges that marred the floor at the edge of the candlelight. A chill gripped her; the gouges looked like claw marks, in perfect sets of five all over. They dragged off into the dark, and she wondered how long they continued, and what had made them.

"Do you have any idea what you are?"

Catherine met his intense stare. "I don't know what you mean," she said, wrapping her arms around herself and leaning further away from him.

The vampire rested one long arm on his knee. "She did not tell you."

"Who?"

"Sir Hellsing. She told you nothing."

"She told me you were going to stalk me forever." Alucard's gaze darkened, and Catherine realized she had said the wrong thing. The severely dark look was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but it had scared Catherine profoundly.

"My master has her opinions about the matter," the vampire said plainly, "but it doesn't change anything. Fate has brought you to me."

Catherine didn't like the look he was giving her now. It was a predatory one, through and through, and it made her want to scream. "I- I don't understand. I want to see the Director," she said again, her voice cracking with fear.

Alucard leaned forward, his eyes positively bestial and glimmering with a sudden heat. "You can deny fate no more than I can," he said, his voice low and rumbling. "Your blood draws me, calls to me with a passion I have not felt in over a century. You possess my every thought, waking and in dreams, and the idea that you would be denied to me drives me to the black edge of insanity. You are meant for me, Catherine, and I will have you."

_What? He dreamed about her?!_ And the earnestness with which he spoke those last words was more than frightening. Catherine gasped and fell back when he lunged forward suddenly, grasping the chair's arms and pulling the chair forward until he was leaning over her. The vampire brought his face dreadfully close then, the look in his eyes bordering on mania. The abrupt change that had overcome him was horrifying. His next words, though, were calmer.

"I offer you immortality," he whispered, his eyes hot ruby pools. "I offer you eternal youth. Never again would you need fear old age, sickness, or death. The passage of time could become nothing, a meaningless mortal concept, and you could be free to spend centuries at your leisure, watching the world change in ways you've never dreamed of before. The physical and mental limits that plague humanity would no longer be of consequence to you. With my gift, you would be no less than a _goddess_."

Catherine stared into the red eyes, saw her open-mouthed reflection in them. She had heard his words, but at the moment nothing seemed real. Even her fear dissipated as she sat there, almost nose to nose with the vampire. Too many thoughts were overwhelming her, and Alucard's gaze was nothing short of hypnotic. Her mind became a muddled mess, save for the one thought she could focus on, the one thing that made sense out of all of this: what did he want in exchange?

As though he could read her thoughts, Alucard answered. "In exchange," he said, his voice like silk over ice, "you will remain by my side in all loyalty for as long as the world shall last."

Catherine blinked slowly, trying to clear the fuzziness from her mind. "I don't… I don't know if-"

"This world has abused you, Catherine." Alucard lifted a hand and stroked her cheek gently. "You have suffered in unfairness and cruelty, and so wasted too many years of your short life in unhappiness. You will never get those years back, Catherine, and even if you were to live to be a hundred you wouldn't have enough time to make up for all of the unkindness that has scarred you." He took her face in both of his hands, his eyes now glowing with in a way that Catherine found comforting. "But with my gift," he said softly, "you could undo it all. I'm giving you the chance to live the life you've always desired."

Catherine felt as though she were going to be sick. What was he saying? She could hardly focus now. Her temple throbbed dully, threatening to burst into a searing headache. The burning eyes in front of her seemed too large, and she was falling into them; her mind was falling into them. Catherine's eyes rolled up into her head, and she slumped back into the chair.

Alucard watched the girl fall unconscious and cursed her weakness against his influence. But she was leaning back now, exposing her throat. Impulsively, he ran a finger lightly along her skin, right over the artery that throbbed just beneath the surface. He pressed on it, wanting to feel the blood pump harder against the obstacle of his pressuring finger. The girl's eyes did not open as he brought his mouth to her neck, his lips brushing the hot flesh. His tongue snaked out and ran a slow, slick course up to her jawline.

"_Alucard."_

The vampire halted for only a moment, then he brought his mouth back down to suck at the girl's skin. He caressed her shoulders, the sweet slope of her throat, reveling at the soft feel of her. His fangs extended, but he hardly paid the instinctive action any mind. In fact, he was so enthralled in lavishing the soft skin with his lips and tongue that he almost didn't hear the second summons.

"_Alucard!"_

He stopped then, albeit grudgingly. He could not ignore the Master any longer. Taking one last look at the girl slumped unconscious in his chair, he drifted away and up the stairs.

* * *

><p>Catherine came to moments after the vampire had left. She jerked awake and looked around her, only to see that the ring of light that the candle gave off was empty save for herself.<p>

"Hello?" she called into the dark. No answer.

Catherine stood up shakily, the stone floor cold on her feet as she gripped the chair for support. Had he left her down here?

"Alucard?" she called again. He had left her.

Grasping hold of the table now, Catherine peered into the darkness to look for the stairs, but she couldn't see them. She took a step away from the table, then grabbed hold of it again when she almost fell; she still couldn't stand on her own. She wondered what she would do now. Stay here and wait for him? It seemed like it was her only option.

Catherine was about to shuffle back over to the chair when her eyes caught on the coffin a little over ten feet away. The black finish of it glimmered in the candlelight, and Catherine realized that the lid of it was open slightly. Was Alucard in there? She couldn't see from over here, but she couldn't walk over to the coffin without help. Without any other choice, Catherine lowered herself to the floor and crawled over to it.

"Alucard?" she said softly, her eyes tracing the strange markings and the equally strange poem on the lid. She pushed at it with one hand, then with two when it wouldn't budge. The lid groaned across the wood a few inches, enough for Catherine to see that the coffin was empty. While disappointed that the vampire wasn't here to take her back upstairs, she also recognized the opportunity to snoop a little. Using her remaining strength, she pushed at the lid until it slid open a few more inches; he wouldn't notice something that small. Catherine peeked down into the coffin.

It was a lovely thing; Cushioned red silk lined the entire thing, and a black velvet pillow rested at the top. Catherine reached into the coffin and touched the pillow carefully. This was all so surreal. To think that a vampire slept here. Her fingers brushed down over the silk then, and she felt something rough on the fabric. Lifting her fingers up to her face, she inspected them closely. Little granules of dirt clung to her skin, and Catherine brushed them away.

After several more minutes of looking and touching, she crawled back over to her chair and climbed into it. She was suddenly aware of the dull ache throbbing at her temple, and she rubbed at it irately.

A half-hour ticked by, then another. Alucard still did not return.

Catherine shifted uncomfortably in the chair. It had cushions, but they were useless. She tried to change positions, to maybe curl up and sleep off her headache, which had gotten worse, but comfort was impossible. Catherine looked over at the coffin again, wondering how comfortable it was. _No!_ a voice in her head screamed. She had to be insane to even consider it. And yet, she couldn't stop staring at the coffin.

Catherine slid out of the chair and crawled over to it.

It took her full weight against the lid to make it slide open, and Catherine inhaled sharply through her teeth when the lid pushed too far and fell onto the floor with a _bang._ The sound echoed around the cavernous room. Hoping that she hadn't damaged anything, Catherine leaned over and looked at the lid; it seemed fine.

The red silk gleamed in the candlelight now, and Catherine couldn't help but stroke it again. She made a disgusted sound as she felt more dirt grit against her fingers. Why was this in here? Her head gave a heavy throb, and Catherine decided that it didn't matter if the coffin was dirty. She climbed carefully inside, almost sighing when she realized how thick and soft the cushioning was. The cool velvet felt good on her cheek when she rested against it. Almost immediately after lying down, her headache began to subside. Catherine shifted around a little, and she found that the little bit of dirt wasn't so bad.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and within minutes she was asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

There's some Romanian in this chapter, so I'll translate it for you here:

_Miere rubin._ – Ruby honey.  
><em>Mea.<em> – Mine.  
><em>Ești al mea.<em> – You are mine.  
><em>Asta e ceea ce ai vrut?<em> – Is this what you wanted?  
><em>Lartă-mă.<em> – Forgive me.  
><em>Eu sunt Dumnezeul tău acum. – <em>I am your God now.  
><em>Țipă pentru mine.<em> – Scream for me.

That being said, I do not speak Romanian and shamelessly use an online translator.

Enjoy.

**8.12.14 - **Lots of vital changes in this chapter concerning character development. Please re-read before moving on.

Give me some reviews, people. I'm hurtin for em.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

"Catherine..."

The girl stirred, then yawned and stretched her limbs luxuriously. Soft silk caressed her skin as she did so, and she smiled sleepily. It had been a long time since she had awoken so rested. She opened her eyes slowly.

She was lying on a bed.

Catherine sat up and looked around her quickly; someone had moved her while she was sleeping. At first, the tapestries on the walls led her to believe she was in another room at Hellsing Mansion, but then something caught her attention. Was that a… washing basin? Her eyes searched the room again. A great, unlit fireplace built of rough-hewn stone faced the bed, which she realized now was incredibly oversized and lavish. There were even pearls sewn into the down-stuffed, silken throw cover that lay draped at the end of the bed, and the bedframe itself was gilded with what looked like gold. Catherine looked up, and through the grand embroidered canopy cover she could make out a magnificent crystal chandelier hanging from a ceiling that must have been twenty-five feet high. She crawled forward on the bed, out from under the canopy, and in the dim moonlight that came through the windows she saw something that took her breath away.

The uppermost parts of the walls had been painted with the most bewitching mural she had ever seen. Fair-skinned maidens in flowing medieval gowns frolicked above her, their long hair braided with carnations and primroses. They danced in a forest, shaded from the sun that might darken their porcelain skin, and shielded from eyes that might reprove them. A quick look around, and Catherine saw that the mural covered all four walls. On the wall the bed rested against, a dark-haired maid was opening her dress to step into a pool of crystal water. Catherine's eyes moved over the white skin, the rosebud mouth, the small breasts. She was beautiful, eternally testing the little crystal pool with an elegantly pointed foot.

"Do you like it?"

Catherine started and whipped around. Alucard stood on the other side of the bed, but he was… different. Catherine looked at his clothing, now comprised of a red silk shirt and dark trousers. His hair tumbled over his shoulders, longer than Catherine remembered. She watched him reach out and run his hand over the silk bed sheets; he wore no gloves now, and his nails were long and sharp. Despite that, the motion his hand made over the bed was oddly sensual.

"I brought all of this here for you," he said, looking around the dazzling room. "The castle is old, but it can be made beautiful." His gaze settled on her again, glowing in the darkness. "You do like it," he whispered, and it almost sounded like a command instead of a question.

Catherine nodded slowly in response, her lips parted in readiness to ask the thousand questions that she wanted answers to: Where were they? Were they still at Hellsing Mansion? Why was he wearing those clothes? Where were his gloves? How was his hair so long-

"Enough," Alucard said, and Catherine absently closed her lips, all thoughts of those questions vanishing. Shadows played over his sharp features as he watched her, creating contrast that, if anything, made him eerily more handsome. He reached out with a clawed hand, beckoning the girl to come to him.

Catherine stayed where she was, pressing back into the pillows. Alucard raised his chin and narrowed his eyes. He flicked his fingers in a summoning gesture, and Catherine felt herself moving against her will. She was crawling across the expanse of silk toward him, her cotton shift riding immodestly high as she moved. She desperately wanted to pull it down, but it was as though she had no control over her body anymore.

Alucard took her hand in his as she reached him. Raising it to his mouth, he pressed a feather-light kiss against the skin. The gesture was almost chaste, but Catherine's skin still broke out in goose bumps. The vampire saw this and smiled slightly.

Catherine's breath hitched as his hand moved up to the side of her face, the sharp claws threading precisely into her hair. His thumb caressed her cheek. Catherine quailed inside as Alucard closed his eyes and leaned forward, his nostrils flaring like a wolf's scenting a quarry. When his eyes opened again, she saw that his pupils had reduced to bestial slivers. Catherine trembled, and the fingers curled tightly in her hair. She couldn't pull away.

"_Miere rubin_," he said so softly that she almost didn't hear.

Every fiber of her being began to scream when Alucard pulled her head to the side, making vulnerable her neck. She knew what was going to happen, and she mentally steeled herself for the pain. She tried to squeeze her eyes shut, but she couldn't make her body do even that. Instead, she found herself staring up at the maidens on the wall. They smiled and danced blissfully, ignorant of the horrifying scene below them.

Catherine felt Alucard's cold lips on her neck, and then she felt his teeth. The sharp points slid across her skin as he drew back his lips, his mouth opening monstrously wide.

Her body jolted as the teeth sunk deep into her. There was a striking pain, and Catherine cried out, but then that pain ebbed to mere pressure, and then that wonderful, pleasurable heat radiated out from the bite. Catherine's mouth fell open, her vision blurring as she stared upward. No more fear. No more pain. Just pleasure. The heat coursed through her, gathering in her heart and brain as it cycled round and round, stoking itself up again and again. She whimpered, and Alucard growled into her neck. His lips were moving against her skin as he sucked, and Catherine felt the heat rush down to build up a hot and heavy blaze between her legs. She lifted her hands, one sliding over the cool silk that covered the vampire's back, the other clutching at his hair. The pressure released abruptly.

Catherine all but shrieked when Alucard bit her again, his teeth anchoring hard in her shoulder. She arched against him in ravishment, her fingers still snarled in the thick, raven hair. As he drank from her, she reached down with one hand and attempted to pull the cotton shift upward; she needed to feel him against her, press herself into him, show him the rest of her skin in the hopes that he would want to taste it.

Alucard grunted when he felt her fumbling with her clothes. He wrenched his teeth from her flesh, drawing a mournful cry from the girl as he did so, and, with a push, he sent her falling backward into the middle of the bed. He crawled on top of her then, his knees dipping the bed on either side of her slender hips. Instead of pulling the shift over the girl's head, he grasped the center of the bloody neckline with both hands and ripped it outward, tearing the fabric open all the way down to the hem, until the shift fell open and her body was bared to him.

His eyes and hands moved possessively over the smooth slopes and willowy curves before him, and Catherine writhed under his touch. He palmed one of her breasts gently, coaxing the pink nipple to harden. The girl whined softly; it was a beautiful sound. Grasping her by the waist, he bent down and ran his inhumanly long tongue up between her breasts.

"_Mea,"_ he crooned, lathing one breast with his tongue while he groped the other. Her heartbeat was thunderous in his ears, her skin feverish under his touch.

Catherine moaned when he bit the side of her breast. She arched up again, her body feeling as though it would burn up if she couldn't press it against his cold skin. Alucard sucked more gently here, his tongue rolling over the delicate flesh, but only for a moment. The pressure on her breast released, and she watched with hazy eyes as the vampire rose up over her. Blood stained his face and neck, and Catherine felt a profound, morbid excitement in the idea that it was hers. She bit her lip, rolling her hips and reveling as his eyes flared and raked her body hungrily. When his gaze settled on her face, he pounced on her again with a vengeance.

Alucard crushed his mouth fiercely to hers, lips moving hard as they sought dominance. She was his, and only his. He forced her lips open, plundering her mouth roughly with his tongue, and she gave a muffled cry; he thrilled at the submissive sound. He dug his fingers into her hips, grinding himself against her. In turn, Catherine's little hands pulled at his hair, his shirt, his trousers. She forced her body upward, pushing back at him hard, until Alucard could take no more.

Catherine made a pained sound when he kneed her thighs apart roughly. His mouth continued to move hard against hers, his teeth biting at the swell of her lower lip, his nails scoring lines on her hips, and as the fogginess of his feeding began to fade, Catherine became more aware of the rough treatment. She didn't have time to dwell on it, though, as the sound of a buckle being undone drew her attention. Her mouth was released, and then Alucard was levering himself up to hover over her.

"_Mea,"_ he said again, but this time his voice had a feral edge to it. "_Ești al mea."_ Catherine looked up to see the vampire's eyes positively shimmering with heat. Almost faster than her eyes could follow, he grabbed at her underwear, tore them open with his claws, and positioned himself between her legs.

He hadn't bothered to remove his clothes, and so Catherine almost ripped the silk shirt when he thrust into her. Her mouth gaped open in a silent cry as he pushed, forcing himself deeper and deeper until he was buried in her up to the hilt. She was slick with desire but her body was narrow, and so the feel of him deep inside her was as painful as it was exhilarating. Breath came to her in short gasps. She looked upward. Alucard was the picture of rapture; eyes closed, head thrown back, lips parted. When he finally opened his eyes, the unbridled lust in them brought Catherine fully out of the feeding haze. She groaned as he moved his hips slightly, the intrusion of him spreading and stretching her in a way she'd never experienced. He lowered his face to the unmarred side of her neck and pressed a cold kiss to it.

"_Asta e ceea ce ai vrut?"_ he said, his voice a throaty whisper. His tongue slithered out to lavish her skin, his teeth nipping just hard enough to hurt. Catherine sucked in a breath as he began to thrust, his body heavy on top of her.

The fogginess from the feeding had cleared completely now, and Catherine stared open-mouthed at the dark canopy above her, little cries escaping her in response to each of Alucard's long, slow movements. She felt his teeth nip her skin again, and she gave a cry a bit louder than the rest.

"That… hurts," she gasped between thrusts. Alucard kissed the throbbing skin.

_"Lartă-mă,"_ he said, his tone gentle.

Catherine was relieved when he pushed up off of her, away from her neck. As he rose onto his knees, though, he grabbed hold of her hips and pulled her up with him. The new angle made her cry out, but only partly in pain. He gave her a moment to become comfortable before beginning to thrust again, his pace faster this time. Catherine clutched at the bed sheets, moaning at the feel of him sliding in and out of her. Drawing her unfocused gaze down from the canopy, she looked at him. He was watching her, his eyes glazed over and hooded with lust. An errant lock of dark hair had fallen into his face, but he didn't seem to notice it. He leaned his head back, a soft moan escaping his parted lips. Catherine's core pulsed heatedly.

Alucard held the girl's hips as tight as he dared, his pace quickening even more as he felt her start to try and meet his thrusting with her own. He lowered his gaze to her again to watched her intently, possessively as she moved; he wanted to catch every curl of her fingers, every parting of her lips. He wanted to see what he was doing to her.

Catherine threw her head back and stared sightlessly at the wall when he stopped thrusting and began pulling her against him instead. The way he was moving her now was rough, bordering on violent, but she didn't tell him to stop. Her fingers twisted hard in the sheets, and to keep from crying out she bit her lip. After a full minute of this, though, she couldn't stay quiet any longer. The heat pooling in her belly was so hot, and he was so deep in her, and she was so close, so close…

"Oh, God," she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Her voice turned to a drawn out cry as Alucard began pumping into her again, his pace frenzied.

_"Eu sunt Dumnezeul tău acum," _he rasped, his nails digging into her thighs. Catherine wailed, her body jolting violently as he rammed into her, and then her eyes snapped open. Her back arched off the bed, and Alucard felt her squeeze tightly around him, walls shuddering. She twisted the sheets so hard that the silk ripped, and then her body fell limp in his grasp. He did not stop.

The girl emitted broken little cries as he continued driving into her. Alucard knew that her body was already to the point of bruising, that she was feeling more pain than pleasure now, but he was so close to his own release that he couldn't stop. Her hands clutched pitifully at him, begging him to slow his pace, and he pushed them away. Selfishly, he hiked her hips higher and forced himself so deep that he was slamming against her core.

"_Țipă pentru mine!" _he howled over the girl's screams, and suddenly he lost himself. Yanking her upright against him, his jaws split open wide and viced down on her shoulder. Blood spilled into his mouth, running its hot course down his throat. His thrusting was savage now, but Catherine's voice had died out with the last bite. Her mouth hung open, her eyes foggy and unfocused; she was slipping into unconsciousness.

The last thing her mind registered before the world went black was Alucard tearing his teeth from her flesh and arching over her with a triumphant roar.

* * *

><p>Catherine jolted awake on her belly, her skin clammy and slick with sweat. She pushed herself up, and immediately banged her head against something solid. The pain was enough to make her lie back down, but only for a moment. Turning over, she reached up with outstretched fingers. They brushed cool, polished wood.<p>

She was in the coffin, and someone had put the lid back on.

Her claustrophobia, a severe problem since childhood, immediately gripped hold, and she scrabbled at the edges of the lid, fingers trying to find purchase. Her hands brushed a sliver of an opening between the lid and the coffin where it wasn't closed all the way, and Catherine wedged her fingers into it. The lid was too heavy, though, and it refused to slide. Panic flooded her.

"Help!" she shrieked, pounding at the lid with her fists. It didn't even shudder under the blows, it weighed so much. She screamed louder, pounding and heaving at the wood with all of her strength. _Trapped. Trapped in a coffin. _Catherine lay back down and sobbed hysterically.

She could only cry for so long, though, before it became hard to breathe. Catherine pressed her nose against the sliver of an opening, sucking fresh air greedily. It was somewhat comforting to know that the lid wasn't completely closed, to know that she wouldn't suffocate. And she could stick her fingers out where someone could see. Forcing herself to lay back and breathe deeply, she tried to focus on relaxing. Something tickled her cheek. Catherine reached up and brushed whatever it was, then stopped.

Her fingers felt hair, her hair, and then more of it. Too much to all belong to her. Holding her breath now, Catherine made her fingers explore further, and something like cool, carved marble made her start. She realized that she was lying on top of something. Her fingertips brushed she distinct shape of a chin, then a mouth, then a nose. She stopped reaching. Over the mustiness of the dirt, the faint scent of gunpowder reached her nostrils.

Alucard was underneath her.

At first, she held perfectly still, afraid to move or speak. But then, she whispered his name:

"Alucard?"

He didn't move.

Catherine started to shift, then stopped. She was lying directly on top of him, and while it was much more like lying on granite instead of a person, she didn't want to move too much. She said his name again, louder this time, but still he didn't respond. His chest was not rising and falling with breath, and for a moment Catherine panicked at the idea that he might be dead, and that she was trapped in a coffin with a corpse.

But did he ever breathe? Catherine couldn't remember.

She called to him multiple times, her voice getting louder. He hadn't woken when she was screaming earlier, though, and he didn't now. Getting desperate, Catherine pinched him. No response. She pinched him harder. Still nothing.

Maybe he _was_ dead.

_Trapped with a corpse._

Catherine bit back a cry and turned over to rest on her belly. She felt around the vampire's neck and head carefully until she found his ear. "Alucard," she said into it, her voice cracking with anxiety. He lie perfectly still, no breath, no heartbeat. Did his heart beat at all? It didn't matter. His cold skin and still form were too reminiscent of a corpse, and Catherine broke down.

She beat her fists on his chest, screaming at him, tearing at his clothes, and when he did not wake she rolled over to continue her assault on the coffin lid. She screamed and screamed and screamed until her throat was raw and she could taste blood. Her fists throbbed from beating them against the wood, and every knuckle on both hands was split open. Catherine collapsed, panting. Her arms dropped uselessly at her sides, resting on top of the vampire's beneath her.

Hours ticked by.

Every now and then Catherine tried to call out, but as more time passed she simply lay there and stared at the sliver opening. Through it, she watched the candlelight dim until finally it burned out completely. Everything was doused in darkness. The hours stretched on. Catherine flip-flopped between utter despair and the slightest hope that someone would come down here soon. Despite her anxiety, physical and mental exhaustion pulled her into shallow sleep again and again. Eternity passed.

And then something moved beneath her.

Catherine jolted when she felt Alucard's body stretch into wakefulness, the long limbs flexing against her. She was pushed upward as his chest swelled with one long breath. His shoulders moved, and she felt his arm lift up to push at the coffin lid. The wood groaned as it slid open, and fresh air poured in.

Catherine all but lunged upward and out of the coffin, tumbling onto the cold stone floor. She sucked in deep breaths, coughing when her throat burned. Her limbs stretched out, and she savored the open space so much that she began to weep against the hard floor; she had never experienced such torment in her life. There was a rustling sound as Alucard rose out of the coffin, and she pulled her arms and legs in so that he wouldn't step on her. His boots clicked across the floor, and then right over her head; Catherine cringed when the hem of his coat skimmed her face. She heard the table drawer being pulled open. Moments later, the hiss and flare of a match. She blinked teary eyes against the glare of the new candle.

Alucard moved over to the chair and sat down. He regarded her impassively as she sniveled and pushed herself up into a sitting position.

"I thought you weren't going to wake up," she said hoarsely, wiping at her face with the back of a hand.

He didn't respond.

Catherine tugged the hem of the shift down around her legs, still trembling from the ordeal. Only one other time, when she was twelve years old, had she experienced a true panic attack from claustrophobia. Being locked in a big hope chest for ten minutes had nothing on being trapped in a coffin for eight hours, though. Just thinking about it brought the anxiety spiking back, and she shivered. A sound pulled her out of the dark memories, and she realized that Alucard was speaking to her.

"What possessed you," he said softly, "to lie down in my coffin?"

The menace in his tone scared her. Apparently, she had made an awful misstep. Catherine wrapped her arms around herself in attempt to still her quaking. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't realize that-" An image of herself trapped inside of the coffin, screaming and tearing at the lid, flashed vividly in her mind's eye. She gasped at it.

"I didn't ask whether or not you were sorry. I asked why you laid down in my coffin."

"I w-was tired," Catherine stammered, her anxiety returning. Another flash of an image, and she was suffocating inside of the coffin, the air being squeezed out of her lungs. "I couldn't g-get back up the s-stairs…"

The work was done. Alucard ceased sending the mental images and studied the girl as she began crying anew into her hands. He let her cry like that for a minute or two, waiting until her sobs died down before he spoke. "You must never open my coffin again. Do you understand?" She nodded, strands of hair clinging to her wet cheeks, and Alucard knew that she was sincere. His impassive expression softened almost imperceptibly.

They sat in silence for a moment, and then a look overcame Catherine that Alucard had been expecting and, if he were honest with himself, _anticipating_. Forgetting the dark fears that had consumed her only minutes ago, Catherine became her bold and brash self again, and she screamed at him.

"You locked me in there!"

The vampire smiled as she threw all manner of verbal abuse at him. If it had been anyone else, he would have pulled their spine out and choked them with it, but the sweet fury on her tearstained face amused him to no end, and the shower of insults eventually drew raucous laughter out of him. The girl stopped shouting when his laughter drowned her out, resorting to glaring at him so intensely that Alucard thought she might give herself a nosebleed. He laughed all the harder because of it.

When he had more control of himself, he fell to chuckling and shaking his head. Catherine continued to glare at him. "Why didn't you wake up?" she demanded.

Alucard smiled and tilted his head, dark mass of hair falling to the side. "I didn't want to," he told her.

"You 'didn't want to?' You mean you could hear me the _entire time?_"

His smile stretched into an impossibly wide grin, teeth glinting sharply. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "You misunderstand. I couldn't hear you."

Catherine glowered at him as he enjoyed whatever little private joke he found so amusing. She didn't understand, and didn't care to. Turning her back to him cautiously, she tried to locate the stairs in the darkness again. She just wanted to get out of here. Her stomach grumbled, and she couldn't even remember how long it had been since she had eaten.

"_Țipă pentru mine."_

Catherine looked back over her shoulder at the words. She didn't understand them, but she certainly recognized them. Alucard was grinning at her still, his eyes hooded. She turned fully around to face him again. "What did you say?" she whispered.

The jagged grin split an impossible inch wider, the red eyes aglitter with mischief. "I said," he whispered back, "_Țipă… pentru… mine." _

_How?... _Catherine felt her eyes widen, heat rushing to her face as he grinned that dark, knowing grin at her. She didn't know how, but he knew. Through some vampire power or magic or whatever, he knew. The desire to scream at him for invading her private thoughts was so strong that her lips trembled, but she pressed them into a firm line instead. A sudden thought had her reaching up to her neck, feeling for bite marks, she heard him laugh at her again. To her relief, she found nothing.

Alucard stood up then, taking slow, languid steps toward her. He extended a hand down to her, his grin tempered down to a smug smile. "Come," he said, his eyes still sparkling with mirth. "You need to eat."

Despite everything, Catherine had to let him carry her up the stairs. She held herself as far away from his chest as she could, though, and her face burned with shame the entire time. After the dream, and especially now that she knew Alucard had witnessed at least part of it, she was acutely aware of every bit of contact that his body made with hers. Even the knee-length cotton shift felt too short. When they were halfway up the stairs, the mirror-door opened to allow a ray of light inside, and Catherine decided she couldn't take it anymore. Glancing up first to make sure he wasn't watching, she pulled her neckline open a little and peeked down at her breasts. She almost sighed in relief; no bite mark. Then Alucard laughed softly, and she flushed ten shades darker.

"Don't tempt me," he whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

Tada~

Please review.

Enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

By the time Alucard stepped out of the mirror-door and into the hallway, Catherine felt as though the skin would melt right off her face from blushing. She immediately ordered to be put down, and after a slight moment's hesitation the vampire obeyed.

Catherine didn't meet his gaze as he set her gently on her feet, though she knew that he was watching her. Instead, she preoccupied herself with straightening her shift and looking around the hallway. The place was still empty, and she heard nothing from the rooms or hallways around her. Not for the first time, she wondered if everyone had left the mansion. A rustle from beside her made her turn back to Alucard.

He was holding a crooked arm out to her, but the mocking smile was gone from his lips. "Come," he said. "I'll take you to your room."

Catherine tried to read his expression, but couldn't. However, she was beginning to feel quite faint from all of the past events and lack of food, and so she grasped hold of his arm without much hesitation.

Like the trek downstairs, the trek back up to her room was a long one. Catherine found herself beginning to lean more and more heavily on Alucard as they walked, despite his slow and conscientious steps, and eventually he stopped altogether.

"I'm fine," Catherine panted, quickly pulling away as Alucard moved to pick her up. "Really, I just need a second- just a second." The vampire's eyes flashed, one black eyebrow quirking almost imperceptibly in irritation.

"You are not fit to walk," he said. "I will carry you."

Catherine leaned against the wall, inching away as Alucard took a step toward her. She held a hand out, as though somehow that would stop him from lifting her again. "I mean it, I'm fine!"

Alucard's lips parted as though he were about to speak, and then the strangest look of attentiveness overcame him. He tilted his head to the side as though he could hear something Catherine could not, and he looked off down the dimly lit hall. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the strange expression was gone. He trained his eyes back on her. "I will carry you," he said again, but this time he didn't wait for a response. Catherine could only let out a yelp as the vampire scooped her up with frightening speed and ease.

"Put me down!" she cried as Alucard set off quickly down the hallway. Catherine bounced with his gait, and she both clutched securely at his coat and cringed away from him. "I said I was fine-"

"Hush. The Master can't be kept waiting."

Catherine glared up the vampire. When he glanced down at her with a severe look of his own, though, she immediately averted her eyes.

They reached the stairs. Catherine half-screamed as Alucard took the steps six, seven at a time. Then, he whipped around the landing corner so quickly that her stomach turned over. After another forceful change of direction at the top of the stairs, Catherine clung to the vampire's suit weakly, her head bobbing drunkenly in nausea. Alucard didn't seem to notice, because he took the next corner as sharply as the others and didn't slow until he had reached a partially open door. Two voices drifted out, and despite her sickness Catherine could recognize them. Alucard pushed the door open with a boot to reveal a spacious, high-ceilinged room. Walter, Integra, and a short-haired, blonde woman in uniform looked over at them from a desk that rested near the massive, arching windows.

"I thought as much," Integra said, and Catherine had a hard time discerning what she meant and whether or not there was disdain in the woman's voice. She didn't get much of a chance to read her expression for clues, either, because Alucard wasn't walking toward the desk; instead, he was carrying her over to a chair against the far wall, a good distance away from the others.

The soft, worn leather dipped beneath her as Alucard placed her in the chair. Then, without a word, he left her to walk over to the desk. Catherine watched Integra gesture for him to move closer, and the two began to speak in hushed tones. The woman wore a serious, even irate expression, continually shaking her head and casting glances toward Catherine. Alucard looked over at her too, but his lips were drawn up into a crooked smile. Catherine narrowed her eyes at him, peeved that he had brought her to a meeting she clearly wasn't welcome to be a part of. When she caught sight of Walter smiling warmly at her, though, she mustered a smile back.

The door opened, and two men in military-like uniforms stepped inside. It took her a moment, but Catherine recognized one of the men as the curly-haired soldier that had tried to explain off the vampire attack at Lolly's to her as rabies. She watched him follow the other man over to the desk, and for a brief moment their gazes locked. She saw faint surprise register on his features, and then he looked away.

The meeting, whatever it was about, was brief and quiet. Catherine was certain that they were speaking softly because of her presence there, and she tried to pretend as though she weren't listening, but she certainly was. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Integra hand a bunch of files to one of the soldiers. She watched them talk until she noticed the short-haired woman staring intently at her, and she quickly looked away.

A few minutes later, the sharp sound of heels clicking together made her glance back over at the group, and she saw the two soldiers saluting Integra. They turned to leave, and again the soldier with the curly hair met her eyes. She looked back at him, and the soldier held her gaze until he could no longer look at her without turning his head. He and his companion stepped outside and closed the door behind them.

"Are you Miss Catherine?"

She started when she realized that the short-haired woman was standing beside her. Like the soldiers that had just left, the woman wore a mustard yellow uniform and combat boots, though her outfit differed in the sense that she also wore a miniskirt and white thigh-high stockings. Her skin was pale, almost to the point of greyish-ness, and it was slightly unnerving; with porcelain skin, big blue eyes, and a sweet, heart-shaped face, she looked almost doll-like. Catherine was surprised to note that the woman looked to be no older than she was.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's me." As she looked at the woman, Catherine's eyes settled on the black and red Hellsing badge emblazoned over her heart. _We are on a mission from God_, it read. Catherine jumped again when the woman dropped onto her knees suddenly, her eyes huge and gleaming fanatically.

"Mistress," the woman said reverently, "my name is Seras." She placed a hand sincerely over her heart and lowered her head so deeply that her forehead almost touched Catherine's knees. "It's an honor to serve you."

Thoroughly taken aback by the subservient behavior, all Catherine could manage was a confused, "'Mistress?'"

Seras lifted her head and smiled, her gaze filled with awe. Catherine dared to believe she saw tears welling in the woman's eyes. "I'm so happy that you decided to stay. Our Master is happy, too." Seras turned to look over at the desk, and Catherine followed her gaze.

Alucard was speaking to Integra, but he was no longer smiling. If anything, he looked a little sullen.

"Well, at least I think he is. Sometimes it's hard to tell what mood he's in," Seras said, still watching him. Her smile faded somewhat, and then she turned back to Catherine. "But you'll learn him better than anyone," she said, her smile returning brightly, "so I don't think you'll have a problem."

Catherine floundered for something to say. This was all so strange, and she didn't know how to handle any of it. Before she could choke any words out, however, Alucard had materialized beside her.

Seras stood quickly, and Alucard dismissed her with a wave of his hand. She nodded to him and gave Catherine another smile before walking away.

Alucard extended a hand to her. "We will go to your room now," he said.

Catherine's bedroom was right around the corner from the meeting room, but Alucard insisted on walking her there; Catherine didn't have the energy to argue. When they reached the door, Alucard moved to open it, and then stopped mid-motion. Catherine saw his nose scrunch as though he smelled something bad.

"What?" she said. The vampire pushed the door open and Catherine immediately heard the growling and hissing of a cat.

"Church!" Catherine cried. She had been certain she would never see the cat again, and she was overjoyed to find him here. Pulling away from Alucard, she looked around the room to place Church's growling. All of her things had been brought here, and so it took her a moment of searching and shuffling boxes to find the cat hiding beneath a wardrobe. She knelt down and saw him pressed up against the wall beneath the furniture, his eyes enormous and his back arched.

"Hey, kitty cat," she crooned softly. "It's okay, don't be scared. Come out and see me. Churchy, come on. Come see me." Catherine reached under the wardrobe toward the cat, not close enough to get scratched, but close enough to have him smell and recognize her. "Church, don't be a butt. It's okay. If you come out, I'll get you some water and-" Before she could finish her sentence, Church darted forward and swiped at her hand, scoring several good scratches on her knuckles and fingers. Catherine yanked her hand back and looked with a mixture of anger and sadness at the tiny beads of blood welling on her skin. Church edged further back under the wardrobe, growling loudly and spitting as Alucard drifted behind Catherine.

"He's never scratched me before," she said, confusion and hurt in her voice.

"You smell of death."

"You mean I smell like you," Catherine said, her tone accusatory. She looked over to see the vampire watching her impassively as he took a seat at the table. He sat with one ankle resting against his knee, the way a man crosses his legs.

"You should eat," he said, gesturing at the covered food tray on the table.

Catherine gave Church one last mournful look, and he batted the air threateningly with another punctuated hiss. Maybe he would come to her once the scent wore off. She sighed and went over to the table, casting a dark look at Alucard as she did so; he had made her cat hate her, and he didn't look remotely sorry about it.

Alucard watched Catherine as she lifted the tray cover and breathed in the food; roast potatoes and pork, parsley stuffing, beans, and a small bowl of gravy. Alucard hadn't eaten real food in over five hundred years, but even he could appreciate the scents that had Catherine's mouth watering. His lips quirked in a brief smile as the girl unrolled her silverware and speared up a piece of pork and a potato; he could tell that she had already forgotten about the scratches on her hand.

Catherine tried to eat slowly, but the food was simply too good. As she shoveled pork and potatoes into her mouth, Alucard stood up and walked around behind her. Catherine looked over her shoulder to watch him, her cheeks bulging with food. However, he had just moved over to her bedside table to pick up the water glass that Walter had left for her earlier.

"Drink," the vampire said as he placed the glass in front of her.

Catherine looked up at him, but he was already moving away again, more gliding than walking. She inspected the water cautiously before taking a sip; it was well water, crisp and sweet. She drained the glass in a few gulps, not pausing for breath until the glass was empty; she hadn't realized how long she'd gone without something to drink.

Catherine paid no mind when Alucard came back over to the table and casually took away the empty glass. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him take a few steps away from her and stop, his back to her. She stopped watching him and mopped at the little gravy she had left with a piece of pork.

"I have to go away for a little while," Alucard said suddenly. "Longer than I thought."

Catherine swallowed the piece of pork. "Oh, yeah?" She scooped up a forkful of stuffing and glanced over her shoulder again. "What for?"

Alucard was staring up at the ceiling. "To kill vampires," he said. He continued to stand very still, his face turned upward. Catherine looked up to see what he was staring at, but she saw nothing. She looked back at the vampire.

"Can you see something up there?" she asked, the skin on her arms prickling with a chill. Were there ghosts in her room or something?

"Finish your meal," Alucard said, his voice tight from the way his head was thrown back.

Catherine turned around in her seat to face him, her face drawn with worry; if vampires were real, ghosts very well could be too. "If you can see something up there, I want you to tell me."

The vampire tilted his head forward and down, as though he were looking at something. "Finish your meal, Catherine." His voice had fallen low and dangerous.

She didn't turn back around until Alucard gave her a cutting look over his shoulder. Even then, though, she didn't go back to eating; her appetite was ruined as she worried about the possibility of spirits skittering around on her ceiling while she slept. Pushing the rest of her potatoes around on her plate, Catherine tried to watch the vampire out of the corner of her eye, but all she could see was his back as he seemingly just stood there and stared down at the floor. He did this for several minutes before he turned around, and Catherine whipped back around to face her plate. She pushed her potatoes around again as Alucard's footsteps approached and then stopped directly behind her.

"Are you finished?" the vampire asked bluntly.

Catherine put her fork down and looked up at him. "Yeah, I'm done-"

"Then drink this." Alucard abruptly placed the glass back in front of her.

Catherine stared at the deep red liquid sloshing gently in the glass. Bubbles popped on its surface, indicating that it was freshly poured, but from where? She looked up to see Alucard moving around the table to sit across from her. "What is it?" she asked.

"It's wine," he said, settling himself down in his chair. His white face was unreadable as he watched her.

Catherine leaned over the glass and sniffed it. "It doesn't smell like wine." A heady, metallic scent hit her hard suddenly, and she sat back away from the glass. The meal she'd just eaten threatened to make a second appearance, and she pressed her lips into a firm line. It took her a moment before she could speak, and all she could manage was a whisper: "It's not wine."

Alucard cocked his head to the side, dark hair falling around his face. He tried for a coaxing tone, but there was a commanding edge to his voice that he failed to mask. "Drink."

Catherine covered her mouth with a hand and looked away from the glass. "It's blood," she said. As she was saying the words, she was already thinking back to the vampire's odd posture earlier, the way he had had his head thrown back, how he had taken her glass away to fill it with…

"It's your blood," Catherine said, and her face became wan with a new mixture of nausea and horror. Her eyes found the glass again, the liquid inside so dark it was almost black, and she was sure she would vomit.

"You don't have to drink it all," Alucard said, his tone softening ever so slightly with the reassuring words. "Just a sip."

Catherine pressed her lips together again. "And then what?" she said. She raised her eyes to look at him; Alucard held his hands out to her and gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"And then you will be immortal."

Catherine looked down at the glass again. She could remember pieces of their conversation in the basement: eternal youth, immortality, power.

'_You will remain by my side in all loyalty for as long as the world shall last…'_

Catherine thought of Seras bowing and referring to Alucard as 'Master,' thought of the slavish devotion that shone in her eyes when she talked about him. She didn't want that; Catherine shook her head. "No," she said softly. She looked up at Alucard and shook her head again.

The corners of the vampire's mouth twitched in irritation. "You must," he insisted, the edge returning to his voice. "Now, drink."

Catherine pushed the glass away. "No." Alucard lowered his chin and fixed her with a dark look, his eyes flaring to life like hot coals.

"If you won't drink," he said, his voice low and rumbling, "then I will make you. I trust you remember that I can do such things."

He was referring to the dream, and she knew it. Catherine gave him an incredulous look that swiftly turned to outrage. "You- you can't-!"

Alucard leaned forward slowly in his chair, his fingers gripping the wooden arms so tightly that the wood groaned under the pressure. "I most certainly can," he said, his expression thunderous. "You forget who I am, mortal-"

"You're an asshole!" The words were out before Catherine could stop herself, and what happened next would fuel her nightmares for a long time to come.

Alucard stood up and smashed his hands down on the table, his white face twisting hideously. Shadow seemed to burst and grow around him suddenly, and Catherine's mouth fell open in mute terror as the blackness began to writhe like a mass of snakes, spreading and spreading until the wall behind Alucard was no longer visible. Then, from within the twisting darkness, something began to pour out.

Centipedes.

Catherine shrieked and jerked her legs up into her chair as the long, pincered things flowed out of the shadows in a great wave. The centipedes covered the floor in a matter of seconds, forming a writhing carpet of legs and pincers. They rose up around the legs of Catherine's chair, threatening to climb up onto her, and she screamed. "Stop!"

"You will drink," Alcuard said; his voice had become inhumanly resonant, as though he were speaking in unison with someone else. His hair drifted about with an undetectable current, and more shadows snaked from out of his coat to join the massive wall behind him.

Catherine was standing up in her chair now. She snatched her plate off of the table and smacked a centipede that had worked its way up to her feet. It sailed through the air and disappeared in the moving sea of glistening bodies, but another one quickly took its place. Catherine screamed at Alucard again: _"Stop!"_

"NO," Alucard said, and she dropped the plate to cover her ears; it wasn't a single voice that came from the vampire's mouth, but a great and horrendous chorus of screams.

"YOU WILL OBEY ME," he said, his eyes burning brightly in the mass of shadow. "YOU, WHO ARE DESTINED TO SERVE ME FOR NOW AND ALL TIME. I COMMAND YOU TO DRINK."

The room rumbled with his voice, and Catherine felt each and every word thunder through her bones. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing the heels of her hands into her ears as hard as she could. She could still hear him, and she doubled over from the pain. A centipede wriggled up onto her foot, but she couldn't kick it away; the screams were so loud that they were pouring into her, tearing her nerves apart. She gave a despairing wail, but the terrible chorus drowned her out:

"DRINK, AND IT WILL END," the screams tore at her. "YOU HAVE NO CHOICE. YOU ARE MINE, CATHERINE, AND I WILL HAVE YOU NOW. _DRINK!"_

Overwhelmed by the pain that seeped into her very bones, Catherine lunged at the table. She reached forward and, with a wild swing of her arm, knocked the glass off of it. The glass hit the floor with a crash, busting to pieces and splattering blood everywhere. The centipedes were gone, and the room was silent save for Church's low yowling from beneath the wardrobe. Catherine looked around the room, her mouth open in disbelief; everything was as it had been before, except that her plate lay upside down under the table. Had she imagined all of it? She stepped shakily down from her chair and looked over to where Alucard had been sitting.

He was gone.

Catherine whipped around nervously to her left, and then her right; she flinched. The vampire was standing so closely he filled her vision. Catherine put her hands up defensively when he leaned forward to bite her, her mouth opening to let out a scream. The sound began, but it was abruptly cut off as Alucard crushed his mouth against hers.

Catherine let out a surprised sound and pushed against the vampire's shoulders, but he was as solid as a stone wall. He leaned forward suddenly, forcing her backward until she fell into her chair with a _thump_; his lips didn't leave hers the entire time. Then, caging her into the chair with his arms, Alucard dragged it closer to him, deepening the kiss and preventing her from leaning away from him.

His cold lips moved roughly and forcefully, threatening to leave fresh bruises. Catherine tried to twist her face away, but couldn't; he was pressing her into the chair hard enough that she couldn't move her head. She reached up to scratch his face, but his hands caught her wrists neatly and held them in a vice she couldn't break. She tried to bite his lips, then; a quick nip from his shark-like teeth was enough of a warning.

Alucard transferred both of her wrists easily to one hand and took hold of a handful of her hair with the other. He released her mouth long enough to let her get her breath, whispering something against the corner of her lips that she didn't understand. When she began begging him to stop, though, he claimed her mouth again. Catherine tried to kick at him, but her bare feet and inability to see where she was aiming lent little conviction to the attack. The vampire laughed softly against her lips, and she felt his teeth prick at her skin when he smiled. Soft strands of dark hair brushed her face as he leaned over her, and she could smell the faint hints of dirt and gunpowder that clung to him.

Her fear turned to dizziness, and her dizziness turned to faintness when Alucard spread her legs with a knee and leaned into her. Catherine wanted to faint. It would be better than being awake for whatever he was going to do to her. The cold lips pulled away from hers.

"Do you think so little of me?"

Fingers threaded through her hair suddenly, and Catherine cried out as her head was pulled back. She panted with fear, horribly aware of how exposed her throat was.

"I could do anything I want to you," Alucard said softly. His breath ghosted coolly across her skin. "I could tear that shift to shreds and take you right here. How could you stop me?"

Catherine stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, her neck and scalp hurting. Her wrists were going numb in his grip, and she tried to twist them. "You're a monster," she gasped.

"I am. Perhaps you'd like me to bring the centipedes back?"

"No, don't! Please, just let go-"

"I have a better idea," he interrupted. "Let's recreate your dream. Your bed is big enough for it, wouldn't you agree?"

"No!" Catherine shrieked as she was lifted out of her chair. She flailed wildly in the vampire's arms as he carried her over to the bed and tossed her onto it. Alucard laughed when she scrabbled away from him and snatched up the little crucifix from her bedside table.

"Why do you resist?" he said, placing his hands on the bed and leaning onto it. "The dream was of your own making; I merely contributed the setting."

"I didn't want-"

"You did, Catherine. You wanted me as much as I wanted you." Alucard began to crawl up onto the bed, an inhuman grin slowly splitting his white face. "But while your little fantasy might have sated your own desires, I must say that mine will take much, much more to fulfill…"

Catherine brandished the crucifix at him, her hands shaking. "Stay back!" The bed dipped as the vampire crept closer, his eyes glimmering hotly, and then Catherine was pressing back against the headboard to lean away from him. Alucard's gaze flicked lazily from her to the crucifix, then back again. He lifted a hand.

"I demand obedience from you, and you refuse…"

Catherine cringed and tried to pull away as his fingers closed around hers holding the crucifix.

"You resist me even in your fear."

He pressed his thumb against the little Jesus's head.

"But you belong to me, Catherine."

The metal began to give.

"You are mine, and mine alone."

The tiny Jesus snapped in half, the broken bit falling onto Catherine's lap with a little thump. She watched in mute dismay as Alucard plucked the metal thing up and rolled it between his fingers like a marble. It was the Savior's head, with tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Nothing can protect you from me," Alucard said. "Not Jesus Christ or God. You belong to me now." With a pinch of his fingers, the little metal Jesus head was crushed into something that resembled a quarter. "I am your god," Alucard whispered.

Catherine was flooded with an overwhelming sense of despair as she looked at disfigured crucifix in her hand. The vampire was right; there was nowhere to go, no one to protect her. As life had done so often in the past, life had dealt her another bad hand and left her with no way out. Only this time, it wasn't debt or eviction or identity theft. This was much, much worse.

She began to cry.

Alucard watched her closely as she crumpled up and clutched the mangled crucifix to her chest. _It isn't fair_, she was thinking as he read her mind. _It isn't fair it isn't fair._ Alucard sympathized with the thought. Nothing was fair. He had accepted that, but he had had far more experience with the world than she. He had also accepted that fate was fate, and so he retained his stoic expression, unmoved when the girl began to sob. He allowed her a moment of this before he spoke.

"All of this will pass," he said, his tone emotionless. "You will stop seeing this as a curse and accept it for the gift that it is. You will be grateful to me."

Catherine sobbed harder at his words.

The vampire sat back, his brow furrowing. He had expected her to argue, to throw the crucifix at him, to scream, to fight.

But all she did was cry.

Alucard knew that humans in general were weak, pitiful creatures whose spirits could be snapped like twigs when pressured just right. However, he hadn't expected to break the girl so soon; not after witnessing the fight she was willing to put forth to deter him. As he watched her shoulders shake with sobs, he waited for her to come to and to shout expletives at him or try to gouge his eyes out with the crucifix. When she did neither, the corners of his mouth quirked down.

How disappointing.

Alucard climbed off of the bed and made for the door. He had intended to turn the girl tonight, but she had ruined his mood and subsequently the entire occasion. The corners of the vampire's mouth turned further and further down until he was scowling. How dare she? Countless mortals would have done anything for the gift that he was offering her. Sure, there was a price, but it was a modest one in exchange for immortality. As he stalked by the wardrobe, Church growled; Alucard snarled back at him. He would turn her, against her will if necessary, no matter Integra's orders. Alucard knew his Master, and though her punishment for him would undoubtedly be a terrible one, the suffering would be worth it.

When he opened the door, the vampire almost yanked it off its hinges. He needed to go outside, away from the girl and her scent; the night air would be rich with all manner of things to distract him.

The cat yowled again as Alucard stepped out into the empty hallway. The sound grated on his nerves hideously, and despite himself he ended up slamming the door so viciously that he heard some of its hardware clatter within the room. Then he heard another sound: metal whistling through the air and clanging across the floor once, twice as it bounced, and then the hiss of it sliding toward the door. Almost simultaneously, Catherine's muffled voice:

"I hate you! I fucking _hate you!_"

… There it was.

Alucard's lips twisted into a brief smile of relief. He stood beside the door for a moment, listening with satisfaction to the sounds of Catherine's wordless screaming as she hurled dishes at the door and overturned furniture, before he walked away.


	9. Chapter 9

Here it is, chapter 9.

Enjoy, and please review. I post this fanfic here specifically for feedback.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

Catherine propped her elbows on the windowsill, watching the soldiers patrol back and forth below her. Hellsing's grounds were heavily guarded, more so now since her attempted escape two nights ago.

One of the soldiers stationed beneath her window looked up. He lifted his hat politely when he saw her leaning on the sill; she sighed and turned away.

As it turned out, the mansion's doors weren't the only things secured with alarms, something that Catherine discovered only after trying to crawl out of a bottom floor window. Armed soldiers had surrounded her almost immediately, all barking orders for her to put her hands on her head and drop to her knees. Terrified out of her wits, she had done so, and one of the soldiers moved forward to grab and force her down against the floor. The soldier took two steps forward before one of his comrades shouted, "Wait!"

Catherine had been awfully confused when suddenly multiple hands appeared to help her upright; the soldier that had been preparing to grab her was the quickest of all.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am," he said to her. "We didn't recognize you." For a reason that wouldn't click with Catherine until a while later, the soldier's face was creased in distress. Unnerved, she disentangled her hands from his and mumbled something like, "All right."

Two more of the men apologized to her as well, and another offered to carry her backpack stuffed with the growling Church. Their words and actions were nice enough, but the men's nervous looks and strained smiles were enough to tell Catherine that they weren't acting out of the kindness of their hearts. As they escorted her back to her room, too, she couldn't help but notice the distance that the soldiers put between themselves and her. They were afraid of something, and Catherine had an idea of what it was. Rather, who it was.

Alucard had been gone for three days. It had certainly made Catherine feel a little safer, but more than once she still found her eyes creating the imposing shape of a tall, broad-shouldered man in the shadows. Alucard wasn't there, of course, but her skin still prickled when she imagined he was. She had no idea when he would be back (she had neither seen nor heard from Integra since the meeting with Alucard and Seras), but she had hoped to be miles away from Hellsing Mansion when he returned. Despite Integra's warnings, Catherine had had a small resurgence of faith that if she got far enough away from the vampire, he wouldn't be able to find her. Unfortunately, she hadn't found a single telephone during her search of the mansion, and her backup escape plan through the window had failed miserably; her bedroom door now remained locked, and she wasn't to leave her room without a guard.

As she was thinking about it, the door's lock clicked open. Walter stepped inside, sporting an ornate silver lunch tray and a cheerful smile.

"Hello, Miss Catherine," he greeted her. "Where would you like your tray?"

Catherine gestured wordlessly over to the table. The butler was always kind to her, but he was still one of her jailers; she wasn't supposed to like him. It would be a lot easier if he weren't so nice. She leaned back against the sill and watched him set out the tray. When he had finished neatly arranging everything, he turned to leave, then abruptly turned back.

"Almost forgot," he said. He reached into his vest and pulled out a small tattered book. "I saw you had a few books with you, and I thought you might enjoy this."

Catherine watched him place the book beside her tray. "What is it?" she asked.

"Poetry."

"What poet?"

"William Blake."

Catherine made a face.

"What's wrong with Blake?" Walter asked in surprise.

Catherine shrugged. "Nothing's wrong with Blake. I just prefer Keats. Or Wordsworth. Or Lord Byron. Just about any romantic poet but Blake."

Walter smiled and crossed his arms, his head tilting to the side. "Is that so?"

It was so. Catherine loved literature, especially romantic poetry. Had she been able to afford college, she would have studied and majored in literature. Walter's smile widened all the while Catherine told him this.

"I can recognize a line from just about any romantic poem," Catherine said. "I mean it."

Walter thought for a moment and then recited, "'This is the place. Stand still, my steed, Let me review the scene… '"

"And summon from the shadowy Past The forms that once have been,'" Catherine finished. " 'A Gleam of Sunshine,' Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Come on, give me a hard one."

Walter laughed and took a seat at the table. Catherine sat down with him, and they spent the next half hour going back and forth reciting poetry.

At dinnertime, Walter brought her a stack of books along with her tray. All of the books had worn covers and wrinkled pages, and all of them were collections of romantic poetry. On top of the stack was a collection of William Blake's work.

"Do reconsider," Walter said as he placed everything on the table. "Blake has far more to offer than most." He turned to leave.

"Blake only wishes he were as talented as Keats," Catherine said. The butler stared at her for a moment, then promptly marched back over and sat down at the table. This time, their debate lasted almost two hours. Neither party was able to sway the other's position, and so it was concluded that they would continue the conversation the next day.

A couple of days later, the conversation had moved on to twentieth century poets. Midway through a debate over whether or not E.E. Cummings' use of acrostics was cheesy, Walter looked out the window and suddenly stood up.

"It's a beautiful day," he said. "Let's continue our conversation out in the gardens."

Having been cooped up in her room for what felt like ages, Catherine jumped at the chance to get some fresh air. In the back of her head, too, she intended to use the opportunity to figure out another escape plan. The butler led her outside to a pleasant little garden patio set in the middle of a rose planting, and though the weather was nice enough and the flowers were lovely in bloom, Catherine hardly noticed any of it.

There were guards everywhere. They patrolled inside and outside of the hedge maze, around the borders of the property, at the gate, up and down the long main drive… There wasn't a single square foot of the property that wasn't being monitored. Catherine tried to focus on the experimental poetry Walter was reading aloud, but she was so crushed to see that there really wasn't any escape, at least not one that she could see, that she couldn't help but be distracted.

The next day, Walter fetched her to take lunch outside. The butler seemed to have caught on that the soldiers bothered her, as he had moved the table to a secluded spot behind some hedges where the men rarely patrolled. Catherine was better able to enjoy the sunshine and poetry this time, but every now and then her thoughts turned to scheming escape plans, none of which were really viable. She often wondered how much time she had before Alucard returned. Once he was back, she doubted she would ever be able to get away.

She had nightmares about drowning in centipedes.

* * *

><p>Days passed until it had been over a week, Alucard still hadn't returned, and Catherine was still trapped in the mansion. She wondered if something had happened to the vampire, then hoped that something had, then felt guilty for hoping such a thing; she wasn't a cruel person, and those sorts of thoughts never felt right.<p>

It was difficult to not fret constantly about Alucard's expected return, and Catherine found that the only reliefs from her worries were the little TV she watched and the lunchtime poetry talks with Walter, which were a wonderful and reliable distraction. She had stopped trying to dislike the butler, whom she had accepted as more of a friend than a jailer; it was incredibly difficult to dislike someone who appreciated W. Somerset Maugham as much as she did, even if he did like William Blake.

Walter had talked to her about Alucard before, but only once. They had been basking in the sunshine after a lunch of steak and potatoes when Walter said quite out of the blue:

"He's rusty, you know. You'll have to forgive him. It's been a while since he's courted a woman." Catherine hadn't a clue what he was referring to at first, her mind still on poetry, and so the butler elaborated.

"Are you shitting me?" Catherine said, ignoring the disapproving look Walter gave her for cursing. "Of everyone here, I thought you would be the one to sympathize with me."

"Do you believe in fate?"

"Not really, no."

"And I suppose you didn't believe in vampires before you met him?" Catherine didn't have an answer to that, and so Walter continued. "How is it that of all the places in the world, you were where you were that night? How is it that Alucard was even in the country when the attack happened? How is it that you have the blood that predestines you for immortality? Fate. As much as you deny it, Miss Catherine, you belong to him. Accept it."

As if that were such an easy thing to do. Catherine responded by changing the conversation topic to what a sham William Blake was, and Walter immediately seemed to forget about the serious talk he'd just given her. Catherine didn't forget, though, and afterward thought very often about the butler's words.

Now, a couple of days after their talk, she was waiting for Walter to come fetch her for lunch. She watched the clock tick away on the wall, now reading ten past twelve; he was late. She drummed her fingers on the table for a while, then got up and wandered over to the vanity, her little heels clicking on the wooden floor. They were supposed to read Keats today and so her outfit was a little nicer than usual, comprised of a daffodil-yellow sundress and a pair of black maryjanes.

She took a seat at the vanity and put on more mascara to pass the time. When Walter still didn't arrive, she dug the blush out of her makeup bag and put some of that on too. Twenty minutes later, her lips were painted rose-pink, and she had put on a strand of glass beads made to look like pearls. She had just finished weaving her hair into a long, loose braid in front of her shoulder when a knocking at the door made her start.

"Miss Catherine? Are you ready?" Walter called to her.

She grabbed her copy of Keats' poems and all but ran to greet the butler as he pushed the door open.

* * *

><p>Walter led her outside, but not to their usual meeting place. The sun was bright today, almost enough to make Catherine sweat a little as they made their way past the rose gardens and into an area shaded by an arbor. The arbor itself was built against the side of the mansion, and it was covered from top to bottom in a lush curtain of ivy. Walter had placed the table there, and on it sat a spread of sandwiches and fresh fruit. Catherine gleefully sat down and folded her napkin over her lap, but stopped when Walter placed the silver service bell in front of her and said in a very formal voice,<p>

"I'll be just a few steps away if you need me, Miss."

Catherine stared at him as he began walking out from under the arbor. "Wait, where are you going? What about Keats? Walter!" The butler disappeared around the corner without a backward glance, and Catherine couldn't believe it. What the hell was that all about?

"You look lovely."

Her breath hitched. She didn't turn to look at the owner of the voice; she knew who it was. Her stomach churned sickly, and she stared down at the napkin in her lap. "You're back," she whispered, because if she stayed quiet an instance longer she might cry. She suddenly wished very much that she hadn't worn the dress or makeup.

"You aren't happy to see me," the gravelly voice replied.

Catherine pursed her lips and twisted the napkin back and forth in her fingers. "We were supposed to read Keats today."

"I know. I'm glad to see Walter has kept you company in my absence."

Catherine didn't say anything to that. She was sad and scared and heartbroken. She wished now without any guilt that Alucard had been blown up or shot or any of the other things she had imagined since he had left. She was imagining him taking a good old stake through the heart when something tickled her ankle.

With a shriek, Catherine kicked the centipede away and stood up. The centipede burst into shadow and snaked across the ground toward the back of the arbor where it was most heavily shaded. Catherine's eyes followed it, stopping on a man's glossy black dress shoe. She raised her gaze up to see Alucard looking at her from the bench where he sat. He was wearing a black suit with a crimson shirt and black necktie, and his hair, usually curling and waving in an unruly mass around his head, was sleek and straight, curtaining down his shoulders longer than Catherine had ever seen it. Still shaking from the scare, Catherine gripped the table for support.

"That was really awful," she said.

"Your thoughts are no better," Alucard said sternly.

Catherine looked at the vampire's clothes again. "Why are you dressed like that?"

He tilted his head, sunglasses glinting. "Walter said that this was a special occasion."

"For me and Walter," Catherine said softly. "Today is Keats day."

"Is it not still?"

"Not really."

Alucard's jaw shifted, but Catherine didn't see; she had already turned away and was staring at the sandwiches on the table.

"I'm here," Alucard said. "You will talk to me."

Catherine bit her lip. "About what?"

"Anything."

"Have you read Keats?"

"No."

Catherine picked up the tattered little book and opened it absently. "Do you read poetry at all?"

"No," Alucard said again.

Was this what life would be like if he turned her into a vampire? _When_ he turned her into a vampire? Would there be constant back and forths like this where they discovered that they had literally nothing in common? Catherine looked down at her shoes. Was there really anything she could do to stop it?

"I don't know what to talk about," she said miserably, the situation overwhelming her.

"Talk to me about you."

Catherine kept staring at her shoes. At length she said, "I don't want to be a vampire."

"I know," he said, and Catherine glanced over at him in surprise. "But that way of thinking will have to change. You understand this." She was quiet for a moment before she replied.

"Walter talked to me. He really seems to believe in this whole fate thing, too." She fell silent again, and then she lifted her gaze up to the vampire's. She seemed to be working up the courage to speak again. "What would it be like?" she finally asked. "If… you know. It's like marriage, right?"

Alucard crossed his legs and stretched one long arm along the back of the bench. "In a way, yes. But the bond we will have will be much deeper. We will share eternity."

"I wouldn't be like Seras, would I?"

Alucard's lips twisted into a smirk. "The bond between master and servant is different. My blood runs in Seras' veins, but not as much as will run in yours. Our bond will be much, much different."

Catherine looked down at her hands and saw that a film of cold sweat had broken out on the skin. "I don't want to be a slave."

"Of course not," Alucard crooned softly. "You will have every ounce of free will then that you do now."

He was going to make her drink his blood. It was going to happen. Catherine had known for some time that there was no way out of this, but she had alternately fought it and ignored it. She might have had a chance if she'd escaped before Alucard returned, but she'd failed. Now, the prospect of becoming a vampire was very real and very imminent. Her legs suddenly felt weak.

"Come here," the vampire said.

Catherine hesitated at first, but she quickly reminded herself that all of this was inevitable. She could keep fighting it, she supposed, but the horror Alucard had put her through the last time she'd done so was something she never wanted to experience again. Moving slowly, she walked over and stopped in front of the vampire. He looked her up and down before gesturing for her to come closer. Catherine forced herself to obey.

"Lean forward," Alucard ordered, and again Catherine did as she was told. The vampire reached up and touched the necklace she was wearing. He rolled one of the glass beads in his fingers before releasing the necklace. "Fake," he said disdainfully. "You should be wearing real pearls. I will get them for you."

Catherine straightened up and looked down at the necklace. "I think it looks okay," she muttered.

Alucard flicked his long fingers dismissively. "It's cheap," he said. "Don't wear it again."

It took all of Catherine's willpower to not say something sharp; she thought the glass beads looked very much like real pearls.

Alucard gestured for her to sit beside him, and she did so mechanically. The vampire made no move to touch her, perhaps because of the irate way her jaw was set, and Catherine stared down at her hands folded in her lap. They sat quietly like that for a moment before Alucard spoke.

"You know now that you will have free will. This is not enough for you?"

Catherine sighed. "I'm just… I can't help but have a hard time with this. I mean, I don't even know you, and you basically want me to sign a marriage contract that'll last forever. People usually… I don't know. They usually love each other before a normal marriage."

"Ah," Alucard said, as though he had discovered something substantial. "You do not love me."

Catherine blinked at the obvious statement. "No," she said. "I don't. You've kidnapped me, and now you're forcing me into an eternal marriage contract." _And you're rude, and thoughtless, and short-tempered-_

"Why must love have anything to do with it?" Alucard asked, obviously not reading her thoughts at the moment. "There are many more things to enjoy of each other besides that."

Catherine blushed when she caught his meaning.

"Charming," the vampire murmured, reaching up to stroke her cheek.

Catherine turned her face away from his touch. "Love is important to me," she said, casting a glance up at him. "It's really important. And trust, too."

"I see," Alucard said. "Very well." Catherine cringed when he promptly hooked an arm around her and pulled her close.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded, half-angry and half-fearful. She tried to twist out of his grip. "Let go!"

"Trust me," he said, giving her a very toothy and untrustworthy smile. Like a child playing with a doll, he lifted Catherine up and sat her on his lap. Catherine fought the vampire valiantly in response, enough to draw a laugh out of him, but in the end he was simply immovable.

"There, that's better," Alucard said with obvious enjoyment. He smiled broadly down at Catherine, who stared straight ahead with a clear look of displeasure and embarrassment. "Are you comfortable?" he asked her.

Catherine didn't want to admit it, but she was comfortable. The vampire emitted no heat, and so sitting on his lap was very much like, as odd as it sounded, sitting on a comfortable chair. She didn't dare tell him this, though, and so she said the first thing that came to mind: "This isn't how Keats day was supposed to go."

"And how was it supposed to go?"

"We were supposed to read."

"Then read."

Catherine sprang forward to grab the book, more than glad to have an excuse to get off of Alucard's lap, but the vampire's hands snagged onto her waist firmly. As she was yanked back against him, Catherine fleetingly related the sensation of stopping so quickly to being jerked backward by a seatbelt.

"No," Alucard said. "Recite."

"I need the book."

"No, you don't; you have them memorized."

He was right, but this was not the way poetry lunch worked, and Catherine refused to be forced into reciting her favorite poems to someone she didn't like on Keats day. "I've changed my mind," she said. "We'll reschedule and have it some other-"

"Recite," the vampire ordered again, an edge creeping into his voice.

Swearing inwardly, Catherine obeyed.

The first several recitations were clumsy and lifeless, and Catherine's face burned with shame. She knew every bit of Keats' work, but the feeling of Alucard's fingers tapping lightly against her waist was an awful distraction, and she often found herself forgetting lines or even full stanzas. It was the worst kind of torture, being forced to do something she loved in a way that made her unhappy. Alucard stayed quiet the entire time, seemingly listening with intent. Fifteen horrible minutes passed.

After stumbling through "Ode to Autumn," Catherine finally stopped speaking. It was too difficult to focus, and the improvisation of that last stanza was more than embarrassing. She sat quietly for a moment, waiting for Alucard to prod her into reciting again, when she realized that his fingers had stopped tapping against her. In fact, his hands had completely relaxed and were now simply resting on his lap. Had he fallen asleep? Catherine glanced up at his face; she couldn't see whether or not his eyes were closed behind the sunglasses, but his head was titled down and his lips were slightly parted.

Catherine whipped her face away from his when Alucard shifted and stretched. She quickly began reciting "A Party of Lovers," but trailed off when the vampire relaxed again. She was going to try and slip off of his lap when his hands rested lightly on her waist again.

"Keep going," he murmured.

"That's the last one," Catherine lied, desperately hoping he would believe her. He did.

"I suppose that's enough, then."

Catherine essentially slid off of the vampire's lap as he stood up suddenly. She watched him roll and flex his shoulders back, and her mouth promptly set into a firm line; the bastard had fallen asleep. Had she realized this sooner, she most certainly would have stopped the shameful recitations.

"Your voice is soothing," Alucard said, and Catherine was caught by surprise. Before she could reply, though, he nodded at the lunch sitting on the table. "Eat your lunch now. I'm going inside to sleep."

She looked over at the tea and sandwiches. Everything was undoubtedly cold now, but she didn't argue. Pleased beyond reason that the vampire was leaving, Catherine sat obediently down at the little table and reached for her napkin. Alucard had appeared beside her, though, and already had the thing in his hands. She sat back as he carefully draped the napkin across her lap.

"Thank you," she said instinctively.

"Of course," Alucard replied. He smiled down at her, his orange glasses reflecting her looking up at him. Then, his smile faded. He frowned slightly.

Catherine stared at him. "What?" She let out a startled cry when he suddenly reached down and grabbed hold of her necklace. With a twist of his fingers, the strand snapped; glass beads rolled down the front of Catherine's dress, and she frantically grabbed at them. "What the hell?!" she cried.

"You're stubborn," Alucard replied. "You would have disobeyed me and worn it again. And stop swearing; it isn't ladylike." He snagged her hands, filled with the glass beads, and turned them over to dump the beads on the ground. Outraged, Catherine opened her mouth to argue, but Alucard cut her off.

"You'll begin trusting me now," he said. "I told you that I would give you real pearls to replace these. You'll trust me to do that. Yes?"

What was the point in arguing? Catherine sighed and looked at the beads on the ground. "I guess so."

"Good. Now, I need you to do something."

"What?" Catherine asked half-heartedly.

"Kiss me."

Catherine's eyes snapped up to him. "What? Why?"

"As payment for the pearls."

_How dare he?_ Catherine stared disbelievingly up at the vampire as he reached up and removed his sunglasses. He squinted slightly against the light, despite the fact that they were in the deep shade, and knelt down beside her. His face was now level with hers.

"You're joking," Catherine said, part of her thinking that he was teasing her. Her eyes flicked back and forth to each of his; they weren't a blazing red, but a deep crimson color.

"I rarely joke," Alucard said seriously. He squinted harder as the sun came out from behind a cloud, shedding a little more light under the arbor.

Catherine shook her head and leaned away from him. "I don't need real pearls."

"You'll have them whether you need them or not, just as I'll have that kiss. Now should I take it, or will you give it to me?"

Catherine looked into the vampire's white mask of a face and saw that he meant every word. She briefly weighed her options in her mind, ultimately deciding that she didn't want fresh bruises. "Just one," she said quickly. "On the cheek."

"Don't test me, girl."

On the lips it was. Catherine was about to ask him to close his eyes when he did just that, and she took the chance to look down at his hands; they were resting harmlessly on his knee, not threatening to grab hold of her when she got close enough. She leaned forward slightly, realizing that she was sweating as she did so. It wasn't the idea of kissing him that was so nerve-wracking; it was the idea that behind his lips were two rows of teeth that could easily tear her face off.

Alucard smiled slightly, eyes still closed.

"Please don't bite me," Catherine whispered to him.

"I won't," he whispered back.

Catherine leaned in further, close enough now to catch the gunpowder scent on him. She squeezed her eyes shut and kept leaning forward until her lips touched something cold. It wasn't much like kissing a person, she thought briefly, more like kissing a statue. Still, she had to fight every instinct to pull away while she held the chaste connection long enough to be called a kiss. When she finally broke the contact, she gasped softly; she hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath.

Alucard opened his eyes and gave her a sleepy smile. On his lips was a little pink smudge where Catherine's lipstick had rubbed off. He stood up and slipped the sunglass back onto his nose. "Very good," he said softly.

Catherine looked down at the table as the vampire passed behind her to leave, then jumped when she felt his hand rest gently on her shoulder. She forced herself not to cringe away as he leaned down, his mouth only inches from her ear.

"I'll make sure they're exquisite," he murmured.

Catherine stared after him as he walked languidly toward the mansion's wall and materialized through it.

* * *

><p>Catherine didn't see Alucard for the rest of the day; apparently the vampire did need his sleep. After lunch, Walter had come to fetch her and lead her back up to her room, and she spent the rest of the day watching movies using the VCR and VHS tapes that the Hellsing soldiers had brought from her apartment. She might have read, or exercised, or tried to scheme up another escape plan, but after the ordeal at lunch she really just needed to be distracted. She watched movie after movie until Walter brought her dinner, and she stopped him when the butler tried to talk to her about the vampire and her situation. Instead, Catherine focused the conversation on poetry, to make up for the missing poetry lunch, and rescheduling Keats day for later on (it was supposed to rain the next few days, according to Walter). When the butler left, Catherine popped in "Pulp Fiction." Walter came back a little later with after-dinner cocoa, and Catherine laughed until her sides hurt when he wolf-whistled at Uma Thurman on the TV.<p>

"You know she has a lazy eye," Catherine giggled.

"I wasn't looking at her eyes," Walter said.

The butler stayed a little while after that, long enough to concede that Uma did indeed have a lazy eye, before he left to attend to other things. Catherine took a hot bath shortly after, hoping that she could scrub enough of the Alucard scent off of her to convince Church to snuggle.

Now curled up on her bed and sporting damp hair and pajamas, Catherine was wiggling her fingers and coaxing the cat closer and closer to the bed. "Come here, baby," she cooed. "Come snuggle. That's a sweet kitty, come on." Church crept close enough to sniff delicately at her fingers. "Sweet, sweet kiki. Come here, come see me- oh! There's a kitty!" The cat had sprang up onto the bed and crawled into her lap. Catherine scratched at his ears, relieved that the cat hadn't tried to take her fingers off. She grinned broadly when Church flopped on his side against her legs, purring loudly.

"Sweet Churchy," she said softly, snuggling back into the pillows. "I missed you, too." She pressed play on the remote and "Jurassic Park" started up.

* * *

><p>Catherine knew he was there when Church began to growl. She quickly tumped the cat off of her lap to avoid being scratched, and Church darted over to his safe place beneath the wardrobe.<p>

"I know you're there," she called into the dark. "Jurassic Park" had ended long ago, and the TV now cast an unpleasant blue glare over the bed, making it hard to see past it into the rest of the room. Catherine sat up beneath the covers and squinted, trying to catch the tall silhouette moving about in the shadows. She clutched the sheets to her chest when she couldn't see anything. "Can't you just knock or talk to me like a normal person?" she half-pleaded with the dark.

"I didn't want to wake the others."

She jolted at the voice that came from beside her. Alucard was standing next to the bed, squinting against the glare of the TV. He was smiling, though, and it made Catherine nervous.

"You're up late," he said, leaning forward to rest his hands on the bed. "Waiting for me, are you?"

Catherine scrambled back away from him as he climbed fully up onto the bed. "No!" she said.

"You smell divine," he murmured, crawling closer to her. Catherine tried to throw herself off of the bed, but the vampire was quick; he caged her against the headboard with his arms, his eyes glimmering with mischief. "So rude," he said teasingly. "Where are your manners?"

Catherine yelped as he abruptly dipped his head and swooped for her neck, but the expected bite didn't come. Instead, he was pressing cold kisses along her skin. Catherine pushed at his shoulders in vain.

"I'm the rude one?" she gasped. "Do you even hear yourself?"

"I was very hurt by your behavior at lunch. I've been gone for so long, and you didn't act at all like you missed me." Catherine winced as Alucard nipped sharply at her skin. "But I missed you," he breathed. "So, so much…"

"I'm tired," Catherine said quickly. "Please, I really just want to go to bed-ah!" He had slipped a hand under her shirt to cup one of her breasts.

"Take this off," he said with a frown, pulling at her shirt with his free hand.

Catherine slapped him so hard it stung her palm.

The vampire blinked at her as the crack of the slap finished echoing throughout the room. Catherine used the opportunity to twist out from under him and flop over the side of the bed. She hit the floor hard and scrabbled backward until she bumped against the wall.

"Hmm," Alucard said. He touched his face where a flushed hand print should have appeared, but the skin was still milk-white.

Catherine shrunk down against the wall when he climbed off of the bed and stood beside it. The blue light of the TV cast harsh shadows over his features, turning them sharper, more frightening. And yet, he didn't look angry. He was smiling.

And that really wasn't much better.

"You are infinitely rude," he said, taking a step toward her. "I tolerated your bad manners earlier today, but I won't do it any longer. I'll have to punish you now." The vampire took another step forward, and Catherine almost fell over trying to scoot away from him along the wall.

"Wait-" she gasped, "you can't! Integra, she said that-"

"I respect my master's wishes," Alucard said, taking another step. "However, these transgressions of yours aren't at all befitting a Bride."

Catherine was going to scream when something clicked, and the blue glare from the TV suddenly vanished. Alucard looked down and lifted his boot to reveal the TV remote; he had stepped on it, triggering the VCR to rewind. Catherine watched the vampire look over his shoulder at the TV and stare. He turned away from her.

"What is that?" he asked, his eyes riveted on the silent images rushing in reverse.

Catherine pushed herself shakily upward. " 'Jurassic Park'," she said. "It's a, um, a movie."

"I know what it is," he said irately. "Why is it moving backward?"

"You stepped on the remote..."

Alucard looked down and scooped the thing up. He scrutinized it for a moment, then held it out to Catherine. "Fix it," he ordered.

She hesitated a split-second, but a threatening look from Alucard was enough to get her to move. Taking the remote carefully from him, she mashed the play button. The vampire took a seat on the edge of her bed, his face holding a vaguely entranced look as he watched Sam Neill dangle above the group of velociraptors. Catherine stood nervously by, her skin clammy with sweat. Alucard was certainly in a dangerous mood tonight, and she worried about what would happen when the movie was over. The ending scene played out, and she bit her lip and squeezed the remote tightly. Her eyes moved nervously over the vampire's face, glowing with the light of the screen, as he frowned at the credits.

"Again," he said suddenly, and Catherine was so relieved that she almost sighed.

"This is just the ending," she told him. "Here, let me rewind it all the way..." Her hands shook a little while she rewound the movie, but she knew that this was infinitely better than whatever Alucard had had in mind a few moments ago. The vampire stayed silent all the while the movie was rewinding, and when it was done he gestured for her to come sit next to him. Catherine grudgingly did so.

She sat beside him for a full forty-five minutes before anxiety got the better of her. Alucard made no move to stop her as she edged away; his eyes were fixed on the TV. For the rest of the movie, Catherine sat back against the headboard and cautiously watched him. The vampire didn't seem to have noticed that she was no longer next to him until the credits began, and he looked left and right before turning around. His eyes gleamed eerily in the dark as they found her.

"Again," he demanded.

Catherine, who had sat up as soon as the vampire turned around, struggled for something to say. She didn't want to fall asleep with him here. Alucard's presence made her nervous, but she was so tired that her anxiety soon wouldn't be enough to keep her awake and alert. She knew, too, that watching the same movie for the third time tonight would be sure to put her to sleep.

"How about we play the second one?" she said finally.

An intrigued look came over the vampire's face. "Second one?" he repeated.

Catherine climbed off of the bed and, taking a wide berth around him, padded over to the box full of VHS tapes. "It's really good," she said as she dug through the tapes. "It won way more awards than the first one." That might have been a lie; Catherine wasn't sure. She was really just trying to make the movie sound as interesting as the first one, anything to keep Alucard distracted from her. She could feel the vampire watching her as she fed the tape into the VCR, and when she looked over her shoulder at him she saw that his expression had smoothed to its usual unreadable mask. Her skin chilled; had he read her mind? She couldn't tell. Catherine felt his eyes following her still as she moved away from the VCR, but she refused to meet his gaze. She took the same wide berth around him, going back to her spot at the head of the bed. The vampire eventually turned back to the TV, and Catherine relaxed enough to lean back against the pillows. She picked up the remote and started fast-forwarding through the advertisements.

Alucard sat up straighter, his head cocking to the side. He turned around to look at her again. "What are you doing?" he said.

"Skipping to the movie," Catherine said. "Ah!" The vampire darted a long arm out and snatched the remote from her hand. He ordered her to make it stop. "You really want to watch the ads?" she said.

He did. Catherine obediently rewound through all of the advertisements while Alucard sat forward, eyes locked on the screen. She couldn't help but find his expression, one of pure captivation, a little funny.

"The movie's a lot better than the ads," she dared to tease him.

"Is it?" he replied distantly, as though he weren't really paying attention to her.

The actual movie started, but Catherine could barely see the screen around the vampire. It didn't really matter, though; all the mattered was staying awake. Stifling a yawn, she blinked intently at Alucard's back. She wouldn't fall asleep with him here.

Sleep was a stern master, though, and she would ultimately drift off several times before going out for good. At some point during the night, she would feel her slippers being pulled off her feet, and then the bedsheets being drawn up over her. However, she wouldn't remember this anymore than when she woke up slightly to the sound of VHS tapes being shuffled around.

* * *

><p>Responding to a recent message in which someone took offense to Catherine's mentioning of Uma Thurman's lazy eye, I'd like to say that the point of humor wasn't Thurman's lazy eye; Catherine was laughing at the habitually proper and mannered Walter wolf-whistling at the actress, as it's humorously out of character for him. And I'm sorry to tell you, but lazy eyes aren't attractive, which is why Catherine mentions it.<p>

By the way, if you have a problem with something that I've written, PM me with an account and we can talk about it.


	10. Chapter 10

To keep you from needing to scroll back up for translations, almost all of the Romanian is written in italics. The only bit that isn't translated in-chapter is right here: "_Am fost prins." – _"We've been caught"

Again, I do not know Romanian and do not fret to produce flawless translations.

Also, I've received multiple PMs asking which Alucard I'm writing. I am writing the OVA and manga Alucard, not the TV series Alucard. The little I saw of the TV series didn't appeal to me, and so I didn't watch it long enough to realize there was a difference in his character. My apologies for not clarifying this sooner.

Lastly, please review with critiques and/or praise. I know that you want me to update soon, but I'd like your review to let me know what you think I'm doing wrong or what I'm doing right.

Enjoy, my beloved readers. You keep me going.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

Catherine woke up to the feeling of something soft pressing against her back. She jerked away from the pressure and sat up quickly, ripping the covers back in preparation to launch herself away from Alucard.

Only it wasn't Alucard.

Catherine blinked at the person in bed beside her, who was now sitting up too. It was a girl, with striking dark eyes and delicate features. Her hair cascaded down her back, blue hues glinting in the black strands. She couldn't have been any older than Catherine, and perhaps she was a bit younger, as her skin was so flawless and smooth. She wore a long white nightgown, and with surprise Catherine realized that she was wearing one too.

It was a dream.

Catherine's eyes trailed away from the girl and found further evidence of this: this room was not her own at Hellsing manor, but another just as lavish. Candles sat on the furniture around the bed, creating a small sphere of light that didn't touch the rest of the room. It all felt eerily similar to the dream she'd had about Alucard, and she looked about suspiciously for the vampire. He was nowhere to be found, however, and she relaxed. Soft, cool fingers touched her cheek, and she felt the girl cup her face to turn her back around.

It was just a dream.

The girl was smiling at her, plump lips bowed sweetly. With a delicate motion, she tucked a loose lock of hair behind Catherine's ear. As innocent as the gesture seemed, though, the way the girl's eyes glittered hinted at something else. Catherine wasn't surprised; as a virgin, she had no experience with sex and often wondered what it would be like to be with not only a man, but another woman. This was no doubt a manifestation of those thoughts. Why not indulge them?

Catherine let the girl pull her face forward, and their lips touched lightly. The girl was wearing a perfume of sorts, one that gave off a dark, delightful scent, heavy with spices and musk; a drop more of the stuff, and it could have been overbearing.

They kissed in a cautious way, Catherine feeling the girl's cool hands on her face, her neck, her shoulders, and then lower. She pulled away in surprise when one of the little hands settled on her breast, and the girl looked briefly embarrassed before giving an apologetic smile. Catherine found herself smiling back at the girl, and after a moment they began giggling like children doing something naughty.

They kissed again, giggling between movements of lips, before falling back onto the bed, the girl on top of Catherine. The latter grinned upward as the girl sat up and began untying the satin bow that held her neckline closed. After a quick tug on the bow the nightgown fell open, revealing creamy white shoulders and the most perfect breasts Catherine had ever seen. The girl bit her lip through a smile and reached for Catherine's nightgown.

A blush heated Catherine's cheeks as the girl untied the bow and pulled her upright, allowing the nightgown to fall away. Catherine caught the neckline before it uncovered her chest, but the girl pouted and pulled on her hands until her breasts were bared. The cool air and the girl's stare were too much, however, and Catherine immediately covered herself up again with her hands, shaking her head.

The girl looked at her for a moment before smiling and standing up on the bed. She shimmied her hips, and the nightgown slipped down to pool at her feet. Catherine blushed harder at the sight and promptly burst into another fit of giggles. The girl followed suit, holding her slender arms out and turning a stark naked circle before reaching down to Catherine. Catherine took her hand, grinning and blushing like a beet, and stood up; her nightgown fell away completely too, and both girls giggled like mad.

They grinned and laughed at each other's nakedness, at the feeling of doing something they shouldn't be, before the embarrassment and exhilaration faded to be replaced with something else. The teasing prods and squeezes at one another's bodies lost their playfulness, and within seconds their lips were touching again. They sank back to the mattress, pressing their bodies together.

Catherine groaned as the girl broke their kiss and began sucking at the soft skin of her throat. The girl's lips, like her hands, were cool compared to Catherine's almost feverish skin, and the sensation of her sucking and kissing her way down her chest and belly was almost enough to bring Catherine up off the mattress. The girl flicked her tongue along Catherine's belly button, then, without wasting anytime, promptly slid down between her thighs.

Catherine did arch off the bed then. She gasped and clutched at the bedsheets, her hips bucking gently with the wonderful and treacherous motions of the girl's mouth and tongue. The girl whimpered and moaned against her skin, alternately using her tongue and fingers to make Catherine's hips roll against her. For what seemed like an eternity, the girl coaxed her to the border of pleasure, then let her fall back, then coaxed her again.

"Don't stop," Catherine whispered, her fingers tangling in the girl's hair as she tried to pull away from her for the third time. The girl finally smiled in an obliging way and lowered her mouth to her again. A soft moan escaped Catherine's lips as she felt the heat in her belly begin to flicker, and she closed her eyes in preparation for the rapture that was threatening to grip her.

And then the girl pulled away to crawl up on top of her.

"_Am fost prins,"_ she giggled, and Catherine frowned at the foreign words. She looked into the girl's face and, for the first time, noticed that there was a fine dusting of dirt on her skin and hair. As Catherine's expression turned to one of realization, the girl smiled to display her teeth:

Little daggers, perfectly white and sharp.

A burst of terror-born adrenaline hit her very suddenly, and Catherine shoved the girl backward hard; the girl gave a little cry and tumbled onto the floor, landing with a solid _bump. _Whirling around to leap off of the bed, Catherine let out a wordless shriek; a woman, blonde-haired and porcelain-skinned, was sitting on the bed beside her. Before she could push her off of the bed too, the woman flashed a sharp smile and snatched hold of one of her arms. Catherine cried out again when the woman's fingers squeezed tight; her touch was burningly cold, and her nails were sharp. Unable to free her arm from the vampire's grip, Catherine formed a fist with her free hand and swung it with all her might at the woman's beautiful face.

The punch never connected, though. Catherine stared over her shoulder to see another woman with dark hair and rosebud lips holding her arm back, still cocked for the punch. The dark-haired woman smiled at her, then said something to the blonde in the thick, lilting language. Both women laughed, their teeth showing jaggedly. Catherine screamed in helpless rage and fear as they pulled her back to the center of the bed.

The women held her down as the girl crawled back up onto the bed and sat on her legs. Catherine thrashed hard beneath her, but the girl was just as strong as the women; she held Catherine down easily as she leaned forward and tried to press a sweet kiss to her lips. Catherine twisted her face away, though, and the girl made a disappointed sound.

Catherine sucked in a deep breath and let out the loudest scream she could manage. A fearful look crossed the girl's face, and she slapped her hands over Catherine's mouth. The dark-haired woman began to speak quickly in the foreign tongue, her voice fraught with worry.

"_The master will have heard,"_ she said. _"He will be furious!"_

"_He's going to punish us_," the girl whimpered, looking on the edge of tears. Catherine winced as she inadvertently pressed her cold fingers harder against her mouth.

The blonde vampire clicked her tongue at the two others, her lovely face full of disdain. "_Fools_," she scolded, "_be quiet now. I will take care of it."_

While the blonde spoke, Catherine bucked and fought against the cold hands that held her. She couldn't understand the language that the vampires were speaking, but she read their faces well; someone had heard her screaming, or might have. Clinging to the hope that the former was true, Catherine kicked and writhed. The blonde woman was still talking to the others when Catherine managed to get her mouth around the girl's fingers. She bit down hard, feeling her teeth pass through flesh to hit bone. The girl screamed and withdrew her bloody hand to her chest. The blonde woman looked down at Catherine, her blue eyes snapping with cold fury, and promptly slapped her across the face.

Catherine's vision exploded with stars as the woman's palm, feeling more like a fist, connected with her temple. The dark-haired woman and the girl cried out angrily, and Catherine felt them release her. She blinked dazedly, fighting to regain vision as she felt the bed dip and shift beneath her with the movements of the vampire women. Her face throbbed, and she reached up to hold it. What were the women doing? They were behind her, and she couldn't see them. Clutching her already-swelling face, Catherine stared off into the dark room beyond the bed. Things were coming back into focus now, and she thought she saw something move near the door.

Her vision sharpened slowly, and her eyes could now track the thing that was certainly moving toward the bed. It was a deep shadow at first, but as it approached it began to take the form of a tall, broad-shouldered man. Catherine smiled in desperate relief at the figure stepping closer. This was the man that the women had worried about, the one that had heard her screams and had come to save her. She reached out to him as he stopped at the foot of the bed, just out of the circle of candlelight. The man took her hand gently in his, and then he leaned forward, pressing his lips to her fingers.

Catherine's breath hitched in her throat as Alucard looked down at her, his white face sharp and frighteningly handsome in the flickering candlelight. His eyes burned so hotly that Catherine swore she could feel the heat on her naked flesh as his gaze swept over her. She turned away in fear when he reached toward her face, expecting violence after seeing the look in his eyes; however, his cool hand only moved to stroke her injured face gently, right over the spot that throbbed and ached. Catherine watched the vampire fearfully as he turned his gaze up to the women behind her, his expression suddenly savage.

"_Who?"_ he demanded, the sound more a growl than speech.

The girl and the dark-haired woman looked to the blonde, who came forward on her knees beside Catherine and began speaking rapidly. Alucard's face remained thunderous all the while the blonde beseeched him. He didn't move or speak until the woman, seeing him unconvinced, sat forward and put her hands on his chest in a pleading way. Then, faster than Catherine's eyes could follow, Alucard raised a hand and slapped the blonde so hard that she fell to the floor. The dark-haired woman and the girl clung to one another and trembled as Alucard reached down and grabbed the blonde by her hair.

"_Do you desire my wrath so much," _he hissed_, "that you would deliberately disobey me?"_

The women and Catherine cringed as the harsh voice went on. On the floor beside Alucard, her hair still twisted in his cruel fingers, the blonde wept softly. Blood flowed from her nose to run down her face and neck. She did not dare to grab onto her master's hand, but instead clutched pitifully at the stained neckline of her silk gown as he berated her viciously.

Eventually Alucard seemed to notice the blonde's crying, and he stopped speaking to look down at her. The woman made a fearful little sound as he lifted her up by her hair to stand on her feet. Alucard did not release her right away, but turned her around to look up at him.

"_Why must you provoke me?" _he said, his hand sliding out of the golden tresses to cup the woman's tear- and bloodstained face.

"_Forgive me, my lord," _the blonde whimpered.

Alucard's cold expression softened, and he ran a thumb across the blonde's bloody lips. The woman looked up at him innocently, her eyes still rimmed red with tears, and then parted her lips over his thumb. Alucard's hard-set mouth quirked slightly into a smile as she began to suck her own blood off of him. After a moment, he pulled free of her mouth and dabbed more of her blood onto his fingers; he held them out to the dark-haired woman and the girl.

Catherine would have long ago thrown herself away from all of this, but like in her previous dream she was unable to move. Heart pounding, she lay paralyzed as the other two vampire women crawled around her to suck at Alucard's bloody fingers. Their whimpers and moans reached her ears, and she felt nauseated.

Alucard said something to the women, and they giggled. Catherine turned her face away in disgust as the dark-haired woman and the girl began to kiss and lick at the blonde's bloodstained skin. She just wanted the nightmare to be over. Cold fingers brushed her thigh, and she gasped.

Alucard was leaning over her. His eyes no longer burned with anger, but with lust. Forgetting herself in her fear, Catherine met his gaze. She remembered instantly the hypnosis she had experienced in the other dream, however, and she quickly tore her eyes away. Cruel fingers grabbed hold of her face, though, and she was forced to look back up at the vampire.

They stared at one another. Catherine waited for the mesmerizing gleam to come into Alucard's eyes, but the only change in his expression was the slow smile that spread over his face. An awful realization came over her: he wasn't going to hypnotize her this time.

Catherine's heart beat wildly against her ribs as the vampire reached down to take hold of her wrist. He lifted it gently to his mouth and ran his cold tongue along the skin, right over the pulsing veins. Then, before Catherine could flinch, he sunk his teeth into the flesh.

As with the other bites there was an initial horrific pain, but this time there was no heat afterward, no pleasurable numbness. Catherine screamed in agony as the vampire's lips moved against the mess of torn flesh, sucking and lapping at the blood that poured out. Alucard smiled into the wound as she screamed, the lower half of his face and neck stained with her blood. It was not enough, though, and a moment later he wormed his tongue down into the flesh to encourage the blood out faster.

Catherine's vision blurred and brightened as she began to faint. Her own screams became muffled and dulled in her ears until she was no longer screaming, but gaping silently at the ceiling. Never in her life had she experienced such pain, and for several minutes she was unconscious. When she came back to, Alucard was no longer feeding from her wrist. He was staring down at her, his eyes casting a soft crimson glow in the sockets. Despite the searing pain in her arm, Catherine had enough awareness to note that the women were gone, and that all but one of the candles had been extinguished, leaving them in almost complete darkness.

Despair gripping her in its breathless hold, she realized that something awful was about to happen. Why else would he have sent the women away? Why would he have left one candle for her to see by? She instinctively tried to move, and discovered that she could. But she was weak, so weak…

"No," Catherine moaned pitifully as Alucard leaned down over her. His lips glistened with her blood, and Catherine cried out in repulsion when he pressed them against her cheek. She lifted her good arm and tried to push him away, but immediately regretted the decision; the vampire easily snagged hold of her arm and bit into the wrist like a man eating an apple. Catherine wailed.

Alucard fed from her until she began to swoon, but he stopped before she could fall completely unconscious again. Struggling to focus on the blurred world around her, Catherine felt the vampire take hold of her face and crush his mouth to hers. Nausea overwhelmed her at the feeling of the hot, sticky blood being forced into her mouth with each movement of his lips and tongue. Mercifully, Alucard withdrew from her after only a moment of this, and Catherine gagged and spit the blood out. She was only offered a second of relief, however, before Alucard began to tear off his clothing with obvious purpose.

"No, no, no, no," Catherine cried. She tried to crawl away, but she had lost too much blood and could hardly move. Cold hands gripped her hips painfully, and she yelped as she was dragged back beneath the vampire. She fought him as hard as she could, but her attempts were pathetic. Alucard laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound, and lowered himself over her. Dread choked her as the felt him force her thighs apart, and she began to plead.

"Please stop, please, please-"

Alucard looked down at her as she implored and cried, and a jagged smile split his face. He hiked one of her legs up, drawing a shriek out of her but not stopping her pleading, and pressed a harsh kiss to the side of her neck. When he spoke next, he spoke in clear but accented English.

"Yes, my Bride," he said. "_Beg me."_ And with a harsh buck of his hips, he forced himself deep inside her.

* * *

><p>Catherine jolted awake. She sat up abruptly on her elbow for several seconds, blinking wide-eyed at the dark expanse of her room, before finally relaxing back onto the bed. Minutes passed, and the nightmare she'd just experienced melted away to nothing, leaving her without a memory of it. She lay very still for a long time, in the limbo between dreams and wakefulness, before her flushed and sweaty skin became too uncomfortable beneath the clinging silk sheets. With a languid motion, she pulled the covers off of herself, intending to go straight back to sleep. A cascade of hollow thudding immediately woke her fully, however, and she looked down to see a dozen empty VHS boxes lying on the floor.<p>

_Who got all of those out? _She stared at the boxes, her consciousness slowly returning and piecing the memories of the previous night together.

… _Alucard._

Catherine turned around slowly over to look behind her, and her flushed skin became chilled; Alucard was lying beside her on his back, eyes closed. He looked very much asleep, with his gloved hands folded neatly at his waist and his head tilted back into the pillow. Catherine began to move out from under the covers, out of the bed and away from the vampire, but something about his appearance stopped her. She moved carefully to face him and get a better look. Surprise registered on her face when she realized what it was.

He looked tired.

Catherine stared at the vampire, utterly fascinated. It wasn't that his expression was interesting, but that it was so very… normal; his face, though still eerily smooth and sharp, lost much of its harshness when relaxed with sleep. Catherine studied the dustings of shadow beneath his eyes, the high contours of his cheekbones, the sharp line of his jaw. _Aristocratic,_ Catherine thought. That was the word to describe his features. The word "handsome" also came to mind, but Catherine's subconscious pushed it away. She studied every bit of his face closely, marveling at the flawlessness of his skin. When her gaze came to rest on his lips, however, she frowned; there, at the corner of his mouth, was a tiny red splotch. She immediately reached up to her neck, checking for bite-marks. It was glaringly obvious where he had bitten her, however, when she realized that there was a bandage on her left wrist.

A bandage made out of the lower half of her pajama top.

Catherine stared open-mouthed at the enormous rip out of her shirt. How had she not felt that? She shook her head, shocked. She was a little angry, too, but part of her did recognize that the vampire had doctored her up after feeding from her. She wasn't sure that she could completely appreciate the sentiment, though.

She looked back at Alucard, lying deathly still beside her; not even his chest rose and fell with breath. Why hadn't he gone back to his coffin? It was just dawn beyond the heavy drapes that concealed the windows. Wasn't he worried about the sun burning him up? Or did he simply trust her enough to not fling the drapes open and incinerate him in his sleep?

She stared at him for a long time. Had he been breathing, dressed more modernly, and not positioned like a corpse at a visitation, he might have passed for a man. _No…_ Catherine tilted her head, studying his face again. His features were too refined, too perfect. He was morbidly handsome, attractive to people in the way a pitcher plant is attractive to a fly. Catherine found herself wondering how many people had been drawn in by his charm, his flawless skin, his resonating voice. Her mind conjured up the voice, deep and rumbling, and goose bumps rose on her skin. The words from Bram Stoker's novel suddenly came unbidden from memory, and for the first time she was able to pair the voice and the words together: "_I am Dracula, and I bid you welcome, Mr. Harker, to my house…"_

For the second time since she'd met him, Catherine marveled at his very existence. He was Alucard now, but he had been Dracula once, and before that Vlad Tepes III, Prince of Wallachia. Catherine's mind followed the logic of it, but the surreal sense that surrounded the concept never quite went away for her. Vlad Dracula, the Impaler Lord, vampire of legend, was asleep in her bed.

"Vlad," Catherine breathed unconsciously. How strange to think of him as a man. She tried to imagine his skin with color, with natural imperfections, his hair less lustrous, his teeth blunt. What color had his eyes been before they turned red?

"Your thoughts are loud," Alucard murmured, and Catherine sat back away from him. The vampire opened his eyes slowly before rolling his gaze over to her. "It's only dawn. Why are you awake?"

Catherine stopped moving backward when she realized she had reached the mattress's edge. "I don't know. Why aren't you in your coffin?"

Alucard raised his eyebrows at her. "I wanted to sleep with you."

Catherine blinked at him, unsure of what to say. A beam of early light began to peek through the part in the heavy drapes across the room.

"Go and close them."

Catherine looked over at the drapes Alucard was squinting at. Without really thinking, she found herself sliding off of the bed and padding over to the window to pull the drapes shut. "Does it hurt you?" Catherine asked as she pulled the heavy fabric together. "The sunlight?"

"No, but it makes it difficult to sleep."

Catherine went back over to the bed, but didn't climb onto it. Alucard's eyes were closed again, and she watched the vampire carefully. "Why do you need to sleep if you're dead?" she said at length.

Alucard didn't open his eyes. "The dead need more sleep than the living," he murmured.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"You ask too many of them."

"Only two." Catherine sat carefully on the edge of the bed, still watching him. Several moments passed before Alucard looked over at her, his gaze hooded.

"What are you doing?" he said. Surprisingly, there was no irritation in his voice. Even his eyes, which could betray his anger or pleasure by their color, reflected a docile shade of wine.

"You bit me again," Catherine said. "And tore my shirt."

Alucard blinked slowly, the sleepy expression on his face eerily human. "You belong to me. Why should I not drink from you?"

Catherine frowned, debating inwardly and weighing her words. At length she said, "I guess you're going to do it whether I like it or not. I'd just rather you didn't do it while I was asleep. It's… creepy."

"You think that being awake gives you some sort of control," the vampire said, reading her unspoken thoughts. Catherine looked at him, expecting to see a mocking smile on his lips, but his expression was thoughtful, almost serious.

"Yes," she told him.

Alucard looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. "Very well, my Bride."

Catherine watched his expression relax to slackness again, and wondered if the daytime had some sort of effect on the vampire. He seemed different, less... She couldn't place the word. Catherine climbed under the covers and, though she wasn't willing to move away from the edge and be closer to the vampire, she found that she trusted him enough to face away from him to fall asleep.

* * *

><p>Alucard was deep in a dreamless sleep when he heard his Bride calling to him, her voice a faint echo. He fought the heavy exhaustion that the day brought with it, clinging to the voice, and tried to open his eyes. It was like trying to swim upward from the bottom of a lake with a weight chained to his legs, and he knew it must have been almost noon. Still, he struggled against the curse until he could open his eyes and force them to see again.<p>

His hand went instinctively into his coat as he sat up, but the room was empty and silent. The only sounds his slowly sharpening ears could collect were the soft breathing of his Bride next to him, and the clinking of dishes as Walter cooked a late lunch downstairs. Alucard took his hand off of the Casull and looked down at Catherine. She was asleep, and he wondered how long it had taken him to wake. He leaned down to her.

"Catherine," he said. "You called to me."

The girl stirred, her eyes flickering open slightly. "Hmm?"

"What did you need?" Alucard asked.

Catherine yawned and turned her face into the pillow. "I said," she murmured, "I like the name Vlad better than Alucard."

The vampire stared at her. It had been a long time since he had heard that name, and memories came flooding back to him in an instant. He felt his face twist through multiple emotions as the images and thoughts flashed into and out of his mind, none of them staying coherent enough for him to dwell on for long. Minutes ticked by, the centuries beginning to blur as he tried to remember further and further back. What color had his eyes been?

Alucard reached up absently and brushed the girl's hair away from her face. "You may call me Vlad if you wish," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and he was so distracted by the rush of memories that he didn't hear the earnestness in his own voice.

Neither did Catherine, who had already fallen back asleep and was dreaming happily of swimming in a lake under the noon sun.

* * *

><p>My response to Lady Ravanna's review that I think everyone should see:<p>

I agree entirely with your name-evolution dichotomy, and have always thought the same thing myself. That concept is really what I based this fic on, the concept that the vampire who is now Alucard is slipping back into the habits of Dracula at the expense of his relationship with the Hellsing organization. It might not be such a bad thing for him to slip further back to be in touch with his Vlad self, but I agree that it's far too late for him to ever fully access that part of himself again. Vlad died on the chopping block 500 years ago, and he's not coming back.

I had Alucard cling to the idea of Catherine calling him Vlad because he obviously longs for his humanity again, despite the fact that he's clearly lost touch with it. It isn't that he wants to be Vlad again, but that he wants to be human. He knows this is impossible, that only death will be his release, but death is pretty much impossible too, thanks to Hellsing, and so I think that he would hold tight to what he has left: defying God with his immortality.

Besides, the Hellsing family has worked so hard to make Dracula into Alucard (both physically and mentally) that I think that it would irk Integra to no end to hear Catherine refer to him as Vlad and further work to unravel the whole metamorphosis. Integra's having a hard enough time convincing herself that it's okay for her to be supplying her vampire with a Bride like in olden times, and "Vlad" might just be last straw.

I'm so glad we have the same thoughts on this. I wanted Catherine to call him Vlad to break away from the mold that the other OC/Alucard fics have been poured into. Alucard might not be able to access his Vlad self anymore, but Catherine doesn't know that, and it'll probably make her feel better to remember him as having been human. Humans are more comfortable relating to other humans, even if they might be evil incarnate.


	11. Chapter 11

'Do not be bound together with unbelievers; for what partnership have righteousness and lawlessness, or what fellowship has light with darkness?'

(2 Corinthians 6:14)

Some action after a long rest.

Enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

A loud crash tore Catherine from sleep, causing her to sit up and look wildly around the room. Beside her on the bed, Alucard slept on as though he hadn't heard a thing. Thunder rumbled, louder than it should have, and she realized that one of her bedroom windows had been shattered; the drapes billowed inward, and rain pattered onto the floor.

"Alucard," she said quickly, reaching over to shake the vampire's shoulder. His eyelids didn't even flicker, and she shook him harder.

"_Il giorno conquista il mostro." _

Catherine rushed to scramble over Alucard as the voice spoke behind her, but strong hands latched onto her shoulders. She clawed at Alucard's coat, both using him as an anchor and trying to wake him. She was able to scream his name once before a second set of hands appeared and assisted the first in pulling her off of the vampire. Alucard's head was lifted off of the pillow briefly as she clung to his cravat, but the silk ripped between her fingers with a hard tug from the hands that held onto her. She fell against one of her assailants, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"_Stiamo cercando di aiutarvi!" _he shouted as Catherine struggled. She twisted this way and that in the man's grip before his companion stepped forward, a strip of cloth in hand. He tried to force the cloth between her lips, but she was flailing too wildly; he managed to force the gag halfway before she clamped her teeth down on his fingers.

The man with the gag yelled and tore away from her, clutching at his bleeding hand. His companion forced Catherine to the ground and pulled the piece of cloth tight between her lips, stifling her. She fought the man, but he was quick to grab hold of the shred of red silk in her hands and bind her wrists with it.

As the man hefted the squirming girl over his shoulder, he snapped something to his companion. They held a brief conversation, the bleeding man seeming relieved by the end of it, and then they were rushing toward the open window. Catherine shrieked against the gag, catching one last flash of Alucard lying asleep on the bed before cold rain was pelting her.

The men jumped.

Catherine screamed and held tightly to the back of her kidnapper's long robe, certain that the two-story fall would break their bones, but there was only a light impact as they hit the grass below. She had little time to dwell on the amazing feat, however, because then they were bolting off through the rain and wind. Bouncing painfully on the man's shoulder, she howled for help as loudly as she could. Where were the soldiers? She tried to look through the rain, but the man's pace was jolting her up and down and the rain was falling so hard that it stung her exposed skin.

There was a sudden jolt, and then she experienced the sensation of falling. A light thud, and then the bounce of the man's running gait began again; they had just jumped the 15-foot perimeter fence. The thought occurred to her that these men might be vampires too, judging from their inhuman strength and agility. Alucard could be a nightmare, but he at least had his restraint. These two men she knew nothing about, and the thought that they might do any of the things that Integra and Alucard had threatened vampires were capable of terrified her. She began to kick and beat her bound fists against the man's back, her shrieks muffled by the thunder and the gag.

Lights spilled through the rain suddenly, and she heard the revving of a car engine. The man slid to a stop, and then Catherine was hefted off of his shoulder and placed on her feet. The man turned her around to face a black van, barely visible in the dark day, its doors open and awaiting. She fought when the man pushed her toward the door, digging her bare feet into the cold mud, but there was someone else in the van who jumped out to take hold of her. She was dragged easily inside.

She lashed out at her captors as the door slammed shut, kicking blindly. Three sets of hands pinned her flailing limbs down, and then the van's dome light was switched on. She stared with bewilderment into the concerned faces looming over her.

The people who were kidnapping her were a bunch of clergymen and a nun.

The nun leaned forward and pulled the gag from her mouth as the van revved and set off, setting everyone to swaying and bouncing. "Are you hurt?" she asked. Her accent was very light, but clearly Italian.

Catherine was in such shock that she couldn't find her voice. She was saved. These people, miraculous as it was, had found her and were taking her away. Her eyes watered slightly, and her lip must have quivered because the nun reached over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

The brother began speaking in rapid Italian to the priest, who produced a medical kit. Then the brother reached forward to untie the scrap of silk from around Catherine's wrists, but when he touched it, he sucked in a breath and yanked his hands back.

The priest looked up from his kit and exchanged places with the brother.

Catherine watched as the older man muttered softly to himself before untying the silk. He tugged at the knots gently, handling the scrap of material as though it were something venomous. When it finally slipped loose, he clutched the silk between both hands and murmured again for several moments. Then, he said something to the brother, and the brother opened up the sliding door; the priest threw the silk scrap out into the night, and the door was slammed shut.

Catherine studied the priest as he wrung his gloves. His face was creased with worry.

"It's all right," nun said, her kind eyes shining sympathetically. "We're going to help you."

"How did you find me?" Catherine asked. She tried to sit up, but the brother at her side stopped her.

The nun dabbed antiseptic on a cloth and wiped carefully at the blood on Catherine's face. "The Church knows everything, child," she said. "Don't move, now. There's something very important that needs to be done."

Catherine let the woman clean her face, and was more than happy to accept the warm blanket from the priest. When she attempted to sit up again, however, the priest prevented her. "What-" she started.

"Satan has touched you, child," nun said, her expression suddenly grave. "Your soul is in danger."

Catherine gasped as the priest and the brother pulled the blanket taught around her, securing her arms at her sides. The nun pressed her legs down and looked at the priest, who was pulling something out of his coat pocket. Catherine twisted her head around to see him holding a small, round object between his fingers. The priest spoke in Italian, and all of the people in the van, even the driver, repeated his words. Then, he pressed the object to Catherine's forehead.

Her lips parted, but no sound escaped. Her body became so rigid that she felt as though her bones would break themselves, and every drop of blood in her veins erupted with heat. Then, the priest began the second part of the prayer.

Catherine screamed so loudly and in such agony that everyone but the priest winced. He continued the prayer, pressing the holy wafer into her skin. She kept screaming, and the priest had to shout to avoid being drowned out. Then, when the second part of the prayer was done, Catherine's eyes rolled back into her head and her body went limp.

The clergy all looked at one another, and the priest instructed the brother to pull the blanket away. When the blanket was gone, he pressed the wafer into each of Catherine's wrists, continuing the prayer. She didn't stir when he did this, and the priest became hopeful that his miracle had finished the evil inside the girl.

"_Padre, il collo,"_ the brother said, pointing to Catherine's neck. The priest peered through the van's dim light and saw multiple sets of scars, all in matching rows of two. He grimaced and moved closer, pressing the wafer into the middle of the scars.

The priest cried out as Catherine tore her arm from his grip and clawed his face, her nails scoring marks down his face. He took only a moment to dash the blood from his eyes before snatching up her arm again and pressing the wafer down with a vengeance.

Catherine screamed incoherently, tears streaming from her eyes. She thrashed her head back and forth, the wafer boiling her blood and bending her bones almost to their breaking point, and the brother and the nun exchanged a worried look. When the girl's back slowly bowed into a repulsive arch, her howls impossibly increasing in volume, the priest removed the holy wafer for fear that her spine would snap itself in two.

The men and woman of God briefly held one another's gaze with sorrowful understanding, and then the priest reached into his coat.

Something thudded against the top of the van, and the vehicle swerved to the side before straightening up again. Holding his breath, the priest looked up at the roof of the van and spotted a sizeable dent in the metal. He exhaled slowly, his hand moving to a different pocket in his coat.

The brother was not so prudent. With a swift, trained movement he darted his hand into his coat, but he wasn't able to even close his fingers around his gun before a clawed hand punched through the van's roof and seized him by the top of his head. Catherine was barely conscious to see the brother hauled up, screaming, through the jagged metal. With enraged cries, the priest and the nun drew their own weapons and began firing through the van roof.

The nun shrieked as a second hole was torn open right above her head, the rending sound of the metal as loud as the thunder. She lunged to get away from the monstrous arm that reached for her, but wasn't quite fast enough; the claws hooked the back of her habit easily and wrenched her upward, slamming her head into the roof with enough force to crack her skull before dragging her limp form into the dark.

"_Diavolo!"_ the priest yelled as his companion disappeared. He snatched a crucifix from within his coat and hurled it precisely through the hole that the nun had disappeared through; an inhuman roar rattled the van.

The driver shielded himself as glass exploded into his face, but there was nothing he could do as he was torn from his seatbelt and through the broken driver's window. Red splattered over the windshield, and the van began to lose speed.

In the back, the priest quickly reloaded his pistol with a special magazine from his breast pocket. He murmured a prayer and kissed the crucifix around his neck, eyes still on the roof even as the van veered off-road with a harsh bump. The vehicle rocked back and forth as it jolted through dips and tall grass, then finally slowed to a stop. Rain battered loudly through the destroyed roof.

"You won't have this one, devil," the priest shouted in badly accented English. "Even if you kill me, you won't have her!" He pointed the gun down at the girl and sent a quick prayer for God to have mercy on her.

The van's door was torn violently open.

The priest whirled and emptied his weapon into the broad-shouldered figure standing before him. When it didn't fall, however, he reached frantically inside his coat again. The figure lunged just as he drew another crucifix, and it was knocked from his grasp. Stumbling backward, the priest stared as the figure hissed and lurched up into the van. He might have had a chance to escape through the van's back doors, but his step was not large enough to keep from tripping over Catherine's prone form; he fell against the van wall and was promptly seized around the neck by a clawed hand.

The priest clenched his teeth, one hand clutching at the claw and the other at his own crucifix, as the white face of Death loomed over him. He prayed swiftly to God for his own deliverance.

"He isn't listening," Death whispered. The priest squeezed his eyes shut to avoid meeting the fiery gaze.

"'Oh my God," he continued aloud against the choking grasp, "forgive me of all my sins and unite my heart wholly to Thee, that with-'" The priest spluttered, his eyes opening as the claw cut off his breath with a sharp squeeze.

The white face split into a twisted grimace. "'That with holy resignation I may submit to death in punishment of my sins," the monster finished, "and so enter into Thy Kingdom of love. _Amen_.'" The last word was whispered with such malice and contempt that it chilled the priest to his soul, and he clung to the crucifix so tightly that it cut into his hand.

Catherine came to as the priests gurgling cries were fading away. She rolled painfully onto her side, her vision so blurry it made her sick. It was several moments before she could level herself upright, but when she did her hand slipped in something warm.

Where the hell was she? She lifted her hand to see what she'd slipped in, but it was too dark and her eyes wouldn't focus. She was cold, and she ached all over from the surface of her skin to the marrow of her bones. Drawing herself up into an awkward crouching position, she realized that her clothes were soaked through.

A wet, sticky sound had her looking around herself. There, a few feet away, was a hunched figure. She struggled to make out the blurry image for a moment, and her breath hitched when she realized that it was Alucard. There was a snapping sound, like branches breaking, and then the vampire lifted something in the air to hold above him.

Catherine covered her mouth in horror as Alucard's tongue snaked out to catch the blood dribbling from the priest's severed head. The clergyman's eyes had been gouged out, and half of his face looked as though someone had taken a saw to it. Bile rose in her throat.

Alucard licked his lips and turned toward her as she began to scoot backward, toward the back double doors. "You're awake," he said, his eyes pupil-less and burning in the dark. His clothes and skin were dark with blood.

Catherine scrambled to tug the doors open as the vampire tossed the priest's head aside, and Alucard's lip curled into a ghastly snarl.

"Where are you going?" he hissed at her.

She threw herself against the doors and fell through them, banging her shins hard against the back bumper. The rain was almost blinding as she struggled upright and began to run, the tall grass whipping against her bare legs. She managed little more than a dozen steps before she was seized around the waist and lifted into the air.

Catherine screamed as Alucard's monstrous visage came into view, the blood running down his face in dark rivulets. She kicked and squirmed, struggling to pry the long fingers away from her waist, but the wafer ritual had left her little strength. The vampire easily held her at a distance, his eyes flared wide with anger.

"Enough," he snapped. "Have you gone mad? I said _enough!"_

"You killed them," Catherine wailed. "The p-priest and… and-"

Alucard's lips pulled closed over his teeth, his face drawing from anger to a stern look. The rain had washed his white face clean and soaked his hair to hang heavily about his shoulders. "They were going to kill you," he said, but Catherine shook her head and cried, struggling to pull out of his grip.

"They were going to save me!" she wept. The fingers around one of her arms squeezed so tightly that she cried out in pain.

Alucard's eyes flashed as he brought his face close to the hers. "Lies," he growled, teeth showing jaggedly. "I've told you before: no one can save you. You are _mine._"

Catherine broke down to sob incoherently, shaking her head and refusing to look at him, and the vampire finally lost his temper. He released the girl abruptly, feeling no remorse when she fell back into the cold mud, and pulled up one of his sleeves. As she struggled to rise, he raised the exposed wrist to his mouth and bit into it; the dark tang of his own blood spilled over his tongue.

Alucard stepped forward and crouched down to grab Catherine up by her arm, but stopped mid-motion. He spun on his heel then, faster than the human eye could follow, and drew a gun from his coat. He fired, and the bullet spun the bayonet that was headed for his face off course.

"_I 'ave you, monster!" _

Alucard bared his teeth at the sound of the booming Irish brogue; at any other time he would have smiled at the challenge, even laughed, but not now. He aimed precisely through the cutting rain and rushed forward, fully intent on killing the hulking target ahead of him.

The sound of clashing metal rang sharply as his bullets were deflected. The vampire lunged forward, swinging a fist that barreled into his target's face with the force of a train. His hit connected at the same time that he felt a bayonet jam deeply into his chest, missing his heart by little more than a few centimeters. The blade twisted to crack ribs, and Alucard shoved his enemy away with a hiss.

His challenger slid backward, a priest's stole billowing around his shoulders. The man straightened up and smiled wryly, flashing big, straight teeth. " Yoor oop awfully early, devil. Whit's dragged ye oot o' yoor box?"

Alucard fired at him again, and the big man hurled himself aside in a spray of bayonets. The vampire snarled as he felt a second blade bury itself in his shoulder. He reloaded his weapon with inhuman speed, but the priest was almost as fast; Alucard managed to pepper only three rounds into the man before a searing light burst around him. Painfully blinded, Alucard roared with fury and fired after his opponent's footsteps.

Seemingly forgotten in the background, Catherine had taken the opportunity to run. Her legs were heavy and her chest ached with every beat of her heart, but she staggered determinedly through the rain and mud, understanding very well that this might be her last chance to escape from Alucard and from Hellsing. She could only hope that whoever Alucard was fighting would kill him or distract him long enough for her to disappear into the forest edge on the other side of the road.

She was stumbling up the roadside ditch when an explosive sound and flash of light made her start; she slipped, but didn't stop. She crawled up onto the pavement as Alucard's voice tore over the thunder and a fresh rally of gunfire began.

The road was beneath her feet now. She started to run. Rocks cut into her soft soles of her feet as they slapped the pavement, but she merely gritted her teeth against the pain. She wasn't going to stay with Hellsing. She wasn't going to be a vampire. She was going to disappear and buy a plane ticket back to the US the first chance she got.

Pounding footsteps behind her. Catherine fought the instinct to look over her shoulder, but failed. A flash of white teeth and scarlet blood made her shriek, and strong arms whisked her off her feet.

"Hush, lass!" the priest whispered harshly against her ear. Catherine gasped as she was spun around to face him; the man had bullet wounds all across his chest and was bleeding badly. But had he killed the vampire?

"Is he dead?" Catherine said, her eyes shining hopefully. Her breath caught in her throat, however, when the priest yanked her to him and spun her around again. Something sharp pricked the soft skin of her throat, and she rolled her eyes down to see that the priest was holding a bayonet's blade against her. "Wait!" she whispered desperately. "Wait, wait, you don't understand-" But the priest was talking too, and he spoke loudly to drown her out:

"I commend ye, mae dear sister, tae almighty God, an' entrust ye tae yoor Creator -"

Catherine pried at the hand that held the blade, but it didn't budge. She began to scream.

"May ye return tae Him who formed ye from the dust o' the earth. May the holy Virgin Mary, the angels, an' all the saints coom tae meet ye as ye go forth from this life-"

"No!" Catherine wailed as the blade pressed closer.

"May Jesus, who was crucified for ye-"

"ANDERSON!"

Alucard's voice was _feral_.

Catherine flailed to keep her balance as the priest shoved her away from him, and just like that the big man was gone. She scrabbled upright and could see only two blurs as Alucard and the priest tore into each other. Gunshots split the air and the clang of blades was intermixed with shouts of anger and pain.

She couldn't move.

Her eyes flicked back and forth as she tried to follow the battle, but the men were moving too quickly. Still, she remained rooted to the spot by a sort of fascinated horror. A thought flickered through her mind: what would happen if Alucard lost? The priest had almost killed her only a moment ago. Would he try to do it again? Would it be better than going back to Hellsing with Alucard? A bright hiss of drawn metal drew her from her thoughts, and she watched the blurring figures slow.

A blazing pain suddenly ignited deep in her chest, and the world was swallowed up by an intense and horrible light. She heard Alucard howling in torment, and then her own voice mingling with his as she clutched at her heart in agony. A sharp pain racked her shoulder, and the little piece of her mind that the pain hadn't ripped away recognized that she'd collapsed onto the road. The torturous burning continued, twisting back and forth in her chest, until the misery pushed her to teeter on the brink of unconsciousness. Then, it stopped altogether. She could hear Alucard laughing madly.

Headlights crested the hill behind her.

She rolled over, pebbles jabbing into her cheek as she lay shuddering on the asphalt. Gunfire and ringing metal slowly sharpened in her ears. The headlights were approaching.

It took a moment before she was able to sit up, and even then she could hardly see; the rays of sun filtering through the clouds were so resplendent that they were piercing. She pushed herself up onto an arm.

"Easy, ma'am," a voice said to her right, and gentle hands helped her into a sitting position. "Are you hurt, ma'am? Ma'am?"

The man before her blurred into view, and Catherine despaired.

It was a Hellsing soldier.

* * *

><p>Dr. William Sommers, the portly and moustached doctor who'd tended to Catherine weeks before, was waiting on the mansion's steps as the military Jeeps drove up. He drummed his fingers nervously against his suspenders as a tall figure in a coat stepped down from one of the vehicles. Mercifully, however, it didn't approach him. Walter called him to the other Jeep, and the doctor hurried over.<p>

He inspected the girl, who stayed silent all the while he prodded and poked at her limbs, and, finding no hurts that he could help, told Walter that she was simply in shock and needed to lie down. The butler helped the girl out of the car and guided her gently inside, murmuring reassurances to her the whole way. Rest would do her tired body a world of good, but he wasn't sure about the burns on her forehead and wrists.

"I'll take care of them."

The doctor jumped at the gravelly voice close to his ear; Alucard was standing beside him, watching Walter take Catherine inside. The vampire turned to him and smiled crookedly, just enough to display a few knife-edged teeth.

"Come, doctor," he said. "I'd like to have these bullets out sooner rather than later."

Dr. Sommers followed Alucard into the mansion, a cold sweat already breaking out on his skin. How he hated operating on Hellsing's vampire. He'd only done it twice before, while Arthur Hellsing was still experimenting with the creature's powers, but that had certainly been enough.

Alucard led the doctor, carrying his bag of tools, to a well-lit lounge. As Dr. Sommers set up his operating tray, he could feel the vampire's eyes on his back. He began to talk nervously, his mind conjuring up those two eyes burning like coals:

"How many bullets did you count?"

"Six."

"It looks like more than six to me…"

Alucard shrugged. "Six that matter."

"Silver, then?"

The vampire took off his coat, loosened his cravat, and unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a black restraint suit, covered with buckles. He murmured something to himself, and Dr. Sommers blinked fearfully against the red light that flashed from the sigils on his gloves. The vampire then unbuckled the suit down to his waist and pulled it open. Dr. Sommers paled even further. Black splotches surrounded some of the bullet wounds in the vampire's chest, and the rot seemed to be slowly spreading across the white skin. Over the vampire's heart, specifically, was a particularly painful-looking splotch, but that wound seemed to be healing itself already.

The doctor watched as Alucard lay down on the couch and propped his boots up on the arm of the furniture. The vampire rested his hands at his waist and closed his eyes, his expression almost peaceful. Dr. Sommers hesitantly pulled up a chair and cleared his throat. His hands were already sweating profusely inside of their latex gloves.

"Are you ready, Mr. Alucard?" he asked. The vampire smiled serenely and regarded him with eyes the color of dark wine.

"More ready than you, doctor," he said.

* * *

><p>I didn't want the translations to spoil anything, so here they are at the end:<p>

"_Il giorno conquista il mostro." _– The day conquers the monster.

"_Stiamo cercando di aiutarvi!" – _We're trying to help you!

"_Padre , il collo,"_- Father, her neck.

"_Diavolo!" – _Devil/Satan!


	12. Chapter 12

**Update 3.11.15 : **I've had a few people ask about Alucard's accent in this piece. In this fanfiction, Alucard speaks with a fairly thick Romanian accent (Chapter 3: _"He spoke with an odd, blended accent; his soft vowels were very British, but he pronounced his consonants in a thick way that was reminiscent of Eastern Europe."_). I made this choice because Kohta Hirano said in an interview that he wanted Alucard to speak this way. Plus, Bram Stoker's Dracula spoke with an accent.

**Update 5.31.15 : **The end of this chapter has been completely rewritten!

Enjoy. And read all of Alucard's dialogue aloud with an accent. ;O

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

Walter guided Catherine to the bed, keeping a steady arm around her shoulders as she shuffled beside him. The wafer marks on the girl's wrists, neck, and forehead had risen into welling, bubbling burns, and Walter worried that the ritual might have done extensive damage below the surface. He helped her to sit down, but before he could lift her muddy legs up onto the bed she stopped him. He looked up, and her eyes were glossy with tears.

"He killed those people," she said softly. "He tore them up like paper. I saw it. He… he ate them."

Walter put a hand on hers. "He was angry, I'm sure, but he was only protecting you. The Vatican has been known to off our men without a second thought, and from what Alucard said, they certainly tried to kill you."

"They were trying to help me, though. It was just that one man, that big priest…"

"Any of them would have killed you in the end," Walter said abruptly. "You're far beyond the realm of priests and holy wafers now. This here," he turned her wrist over to show the angry red mark, "is proof."

Catherine stared at the wafer burn. She seemed at a loss for words. Walter turned her wrist back over and patted her hand comfortingly.

"How about I draw you a bath?" he said. His tone was reassuring once more. "I'll bring some fresh clothes up for you." He smiled kindly and went away to the bathroom.

Catherine heard a faucet start, and then Walter reappeared and slipped out of the room. She was left with the white noise of the running water.

Her chest still hurt, right over her heart. She pressed the heel of her hand into the painful spot, and the throbbing was alleviated somewhat. There was no ugly burn there, no mark at all that suggested she'd been wounded with anything. And yet the pain had been so intense that she was certain she was going to die. She remembered writhing on the ground and screaming.

And Alucard's voice, amplified to a roar of pure anguish.

She didn't want to think about what any of that could mean right now. She didn't want to think at all. Gripping the edge of the bed, Catherine stood up and went into the bathroom. The tub faucet was loud, and the rushing sound filled the bathroom as much as her mind. She locked the door and stripped out of her filthy clothes, fully intent on refilling the tub two or three times and soaking herself until the water went cold.

* * *

><p>She drained and refilled the porcelain tub again and again, each time rinsing away more of the crusted mud that she'd scrubbed from her skin and hair.<p>

Now, soothing her burns in a fresh tubful of cooling water, she stared up at the high ceiling with hooded eyes. The rose oil she'd poured into the tub reflected a pool of swirling rainbows up there, complete with a Catherine-shaped silhouette in the center. She sighed and slipped further down into the big tub, letting her ears be submerged, all the time watching the ceiling. She could hear nothing, and her mind was comfortably empty.

The silhouette on the ceiling let her arms drift out gently at her sides, and the rainbows around her limbs whirled. Long shadows like ribbons fanned out around her head as Catherine pushed her hair away from her face. The flower oil caressed her skin, its scent stronger as she dipped further down into the water. Her silhouette was simply floating now, no part of her resting against the tub. Her eyes began to droop shut.

_Tap tap._

Catherine lifted her head out of the water, gasping slightly at the cool shock of the air. "Yes?" she called. Her voice seemed too loud in the silent bathroom.

"You've been in there quite a while," a gravelly voice replied, and her stomach sank.

She twisted around to make sure the door was locked; it was. Fear rippled gooseflesh over her skin, and suddenly the water seemed too cold. Rainbows sloshed around on the ceiling as she climbed out of the tub. Her fingers shook and fumbled as she opened drawer after drawer, looking for a towel.

'… _he was only protecting you.'_

She stopped opening cabinets. Images of the mangled priest came to her suddenly, but she pushed them away.

'_He was angry…'_

"I have your robe here," Alucard said through the door. His tone was patient, almost gentle.

Catherine closed the cabinet and stared at the waiting shadow beneath the door. He expected her to come out. "Will you pass it through?" she asked, fighting a shiver. She was cold now.

The vampire gave a low chuckle, and the shadow shifted. "Don't be so childish. There's no shame in showing yourself to me."

"Please pass it through."

There was silence from beyond the door. Then, something pushed right through the center of the wood: Alucard's gloved hand, holding something crimson and white. The long fingers spread open, inviting her to take the robe.

It took her a moment to gather the courage to step forward and take the silk and terrycloth thing from the disembodied arm. The fingers flexed lightly when she pulled the robe from them, and then the arm withdrew back through the door.

"Thank you," she said softly, toweling her skin with the inside of the robe. She wrung her long hair out over the tub and tugged the stopper out, then pulled the robe on. It was several sizes too big, and the sleeves flopped over her hands as she tied it shut tight around herself.

"Catherine," Alucard murmured. His voice was gentle, but it betrayed a hint of impatience. Catherine hesitantly unlocked the door and pushed it open.

She stopped abruptly.

Alucard was standing before her. His clothes, which had been black with blood, were spotless, and the cravat at his throat looked as though it had never been torn at all. But he, the vampire himself, looked as though he had aged thirty years. His hair, once as dark and lustrous as raven feathers, hung to his shoulders in lank, grey-streaked locks. His skin, normally a creamy alabaster, was so pallid it was almost translucent. Deep, bruised crescents swathed beneath his eyes, giving the sockets a sunken, skull-like look, and the eyes themselves were filmed over with what looked like cataracts.

He looked like a corpse.

"How cute," he said, a smile stretching his gaunt face tight as he took in her too-big robe. His lips were tinged blue, like a man who'd been drowned.

Catherine blinked, still taking in the way the light shone right through his skin. At length she managed to choke out a whisper, "What happened to you?"

Alucard's blue grin didn't dampen in the slightest. "A good fight. It's been a while since I've been run through with blessed silver."

"That's what that was?"

"What?"

"That pain. Here." The vampire's smile dimmed as she gestured to her heart. "I remember it."

Alucard tilted his head and was silent for a moment. Then he reached toward her suddenly, and she took an instinctive step back from the claw-like hand. She was surprised when a slow smile crept back onto his thin lips.

"I frightened you earlier," he said.

Catherine couldn't stop her eyes from following the sunken movements of his cheeks when he spoke. "You're frightening me now."

"This is only temporary. I would never hurt you like that. You know that, don't you?"

She fought to keep herself from pulling away again when the vampire reached for her hand. He took it gently in his and bowed. Cold lips pressed into her skin, and she shivered.

"Why did you tear them up like that?" she asked softly. "Why didn't you just… knock them out or something?"

Alucard looked up from her hand, and his misty eyes glittered in their dark sockets. "Because you are most important to me," he said. His boney fingers squeezed hers lightly. "They took you from me. They needed to suffer."

"You didn't have to kill them."

The vampire laughed softly, lowering his face to smile his sharp smile against her hand. "How gracious your woman's heart is. Even after they almost killed you, you wouldn't see their lives ended. "

"Not the way you did it," Catherine said reproachfully.

Alucard pressed another kiss against her hand. "You don't understand, but it's no fault of your own. I find your overindulgent compassion most… refreshing."

"Did you kill the big priest?"

"No. He ran when the soldiers arrived."

"Will he come back?"

Alucard chuckled again. "No," he said again. "The priest knows I'll be expecting him. You have nothing to fear, my Bride." He turned her hand over then, and touched his cold, blue lips to the wafer mark on her wrist.

Catherine gasped as relief flooded the aching spot, her knees almost buckling at the sensation. Every ounce of burning pain vanished, immediately replaced by a dull, cool pleasure. She shuddered when she felt Alucard's tongue flick against her skin, the reaction a strange combination of repulsion and thrill.

The vampire sucked gently on her wrist until the cool sensation vanished, and then he straightened up. He released her hand, and Catherine inspected her wrist; the wafer burn was gone, and there wasn't even a scar left in its place. She looked up to see Alucard holding a hand out to her.

"Come and sit down," he said, "and I'll take care of the others."

Catherine made herself take his hand and let him guide her over to the bed, where she sat and he knelt down. The vampire treated her remaining burns in the same fashion as the first, pressing his lips into the burn and lapping away the heat with his tongue. Though she met the treatment with the same mixture of pleasure and chills, the cool relief was enough to force her into a state of relaxation. She had had her eyes closed for several minutes when Alucard finished with her wrist and stood up slowly.

"Catherine."

She opened her eyes.

"There's something I must ask of you now."

She looked up at Alucard, at the veins running through his drawn face. "What is it?" she asked, but a voice in the back of her mind was already whispering the answer. Alucard seemed to hear the voice too, because he didn't say anything. Instead, he sat down beside her and carefully drew her onto his lap. Catherine thought she'd dealt with the entire situation quite well until now, when the claw-like hands closed around her waist and the thin, drowned lips came unbearably close. Her body went rigid against her will, and she clenched her fists to avoid struggling. It would all be over quickly enough.

But to her horror, Alucard didn't bite immediately. She squeezed her eyes shut as the vampire combed his skeletal fingers through her wet hair, murmuring things to her in his native tongue. He was cradling her against him, but his cold skin and corpse-like figure offered little comfort. Catherine fought the urge to pull away until he took her face in one hand and tried to make her look at him. As she turned away from the cloudy eyes, the vampire asked her a question in the old tongue. Strangely, she understood him without translation.

"You..." she said. She paused as she searched for the right words. "You don't… look like you."

Alucard gave a soft smile that didn't tug the corners of his thin mouth too hard. "As I told you," he said, his voice little more than a murmur. "It's very temporary."

Catherine shivered as he loosened the robe and exposed her neck. The vampire tilted his face down, and she jumped a little when the cold tip of his nose brushed her skin.

"You smell divine," he sighed against her ear. "Roses always were my favorite."

She was shaking now. Acceptance wasn't leading to calm, as she had hoped it would. "How much do you need to take?" she asked quickly, her eyes trained on the wall past his head.

"Not much. Be still."

Catherine instinctively brought her hands to rest on the vampire's shoulders as she felt his lips part, and he stopped.

"Be still," he repeated, the edge of impatience creeping into his voice.

Alucard pierced her skin with a light squeeze of his jaws, right over the wafer mark, and though the brief pain made her cry out, the bite was far more delicate than any of the others had ever been. Relief crept through her veins, followed by a comfortable heat, and Catherine waited for her mind to melt into a puddle the way it usually did.

But the room didn't swim, and the soft sound of Alucard lapping at her throat remained distinct. The vampire's hair tickled her cheek as his gray head rocked gently with his feeding.

Why was she still conscious? Where was her loss of control?

Alucard's tongue swiped a particularly slow path, and a heat rushed through her that had nothing to do with the feeding. Alucard didn't seem to notice her blush, though, and she tried to focus again on the wall across the room.

Catherine let him drink until the comfortable heat grew to a feverish lightheadedness, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders. When he didn't respond, she put a hand against his face and tried to push him away. "Alucard," she whispered, "stop." The vampire grunted and, with a final lap, leaned back.

Catherine watched him run a hand through his hair, now full and gleaming jet between his fingers. The sickly veins had vanished, and his face was a polished marble mask once more.

"It's no wonder the Church wanted to take you from me," he said, his eyes glittering like fresh flames. "I've never needed so little to come back."

"Take me from you?" Catherine said.

Alucard brushed her hair behind her ear, his full lips parted slightly. The dying light filtering through the bedroom window cast a warm glow over his face that almost made him look human, save for his eyes. "I should have realized," he said softly, as though he were talking more to himself than to her. "Your blood is unique. Our bond runs so much deeper."

Catherine put a hand to her neck and felt a warm smear, but no bite mark. She was beginning to ask how the wound had closed so quickly when Alucard abruptly took hold of her face and pressed his lips to hers. Catherine's hands darted up instinctively and grabbed hold of his wrists to pull them away, but the vampire took no notice. His eyes were closed as he pressured his mouth fervently against hers.

Catherine made a muffled sound as one of the wrists she was holding pulled away. Faster than her eyes could follow, Alucard swept his free arm around her and crushed her to him. The gesture had no malicious intent as far as Catherine could fathom, but the vampire's eagerness lent his movement too much strength. She whimpered in discomfort as the arm viced too tight, compressing her ribs and threatening to leave her breathless against him.

Alucard pulled away instantly, loosening his grip so that she almost fell off of his lap. "Have I hurt you?" he said. His eyes flashed intently.

Catherine took a deep breath, savoring the ability to expand her lungs. "I think… I'm okay," she gasped. "I just need a second to- ahh!" She tumbled off of Alucard's lap as he pushed her, landing on her back in the center of the bed. Her fists clutched the bedspread in an attempt to scramble backward and upright, but the vampire was quick. He pounced on her like a starving animal.

All Catherine could do was draw a deep breath before Alucard captured her mouth again, working his cold lips dominantly against hers. He rested above her on his elbows, pinning her arms to her sides and effectively holding her in place with his weight, which she was sure he wasn't applying all of. She could remember the dream, how heavy he was when he laid on top of her. Alucard gave a rumbling growl, and her face flushed. Was he reading her thoughts? She gasped for air as he released her mouth and pressed his face into her neck.

The soft fabric of his gloves groped fervently across her throat, her shoulders, then lower to caress her breast. It was only then that Catherine realized her robe had fallen open, and she jerked away from the vampire's touch to fumble it shut. Alucard caught her hands mid-motion and met her eyes. His gaze was not wild, as she had expected, but warm and soothing.

"Let me," he whispered. He pulled the robe open carefully, his eyes following the smooth slopes of her body with such intensity that Catherine couldn't bring herself to watch him. She closed her eyes as he drew further down along her body and pressed a cold kiss between her exposed breasts. The long tendrils of his hair swept across her skin as he moved, and she trembled, ashamed of her treacherous body's reaction to his touch.

_Treacherous?_ a part of her mind wheedled. _It's only treacherous if you don't want it._

The vampire moved slowly downward, leaving a trail of shivering gooseflesh in his wake. Catherine could feel him exhaling against her skin, and she realized that he was breathing in her scent. The idea made her blush again, and looked up at the ceiling to pull her mind away.

_"Mine,"_ Alucard sighed against her skin. His fingers tugged the bow around her waist loose.

Catherine grabbed his hands as he began pulling the lower half of her robe open. "No," she said fretfully. "Please-"

Alucard lazily flicked his gaze to her. Little light crept through the windows now, leaving his eyes to glitter like garnets. He lifted himself upright and, careful not to break the hold that Catherine had on his wrists, he reached toward her face. The girl blinked in surprise as he rested a fingertip against her lips.

"Remove my gloves," he commanded. He spoke softly, almost in a whisper, but in the silent, darkening room it was the only sound that Catherine could hear. He gently parted her lips and rested his finger against her teeth.

Catherine began to feel lightheaded. She was staring into the vampire's eyes, something she knew she shouldn't do. She averted her gaze from his, then found herself looking back at him completely of her own accord. He wasn't working any hypnosis on her, and she was completely lucid.

"I will never dull your mind again," Alucard said in that same quiet voice, "so long as you obey me."

Understanding that she really didn't have much of a choice in the matter, Catherine gingerly parted her teeth and closed them again on the tip of the glove. As Alucard pulled away, a crimson light flared from the sigil printed on the top of the fabric. The light abruptly died when he slipped his hand free.

"Good girl," the vampire murmured. His expression suddenly and eerily intent, he took the glove from her lips and tossed it aside.

Catherine looked down at the discarded glove, her brow creased with worry. What had that light meant? Alucard dipped down suddenly, and she started at the quick movement. His cool, bare fingers traced a slow, meandering path from between her breasts downward. As her skin rippled with chills, a smile ghosted across the vampire's face. Catherine looked into his eyes, firmly fixated on her flesh, and was flooded with fear-born adrenaline; his pupils had shrunk to little more than slivers. She tried to move.

"No," Alucard said, his voice low and growling, and Catherine stopped. She couldn't keep herself from shaking, though, as the vampire peeled open the lower half of her robe.

She squeezed her thighs together hard.

Alucard raised his eyes, glimmering with wicked heat, and smiled. He slid one long finger across her flesh, inciting fresh shivers from her. "So modest," he purred. "How lovely you are when you blush..."

"Alucard, please," Catherine panted. She desperately wanted to sit up, to close her robe and hide her body from his greedy gaze. Bride or not, this was happening far too quickly, and it was more than unnerving to not have a say in the matter.

But what exactly was happening?

"What are you going to do?" she asked nervously, still clenching her thighs against Alucard's stroking fingers. She was remembering something. Didn't she have to be a virgin to become a vampire? Alucard chuckled as though he were reading her thoughts.

"As much as I would relish turning you and taking you right here, my master would be most disappointed," he said. His lips twisted into a smirk. "However, not all pleasures are denied to us…" Catherine tried to avert her gaze as the vampire's eyes widened warningly, but it was too late.

Alucard didn't hold the hypnosis long. He only waited until the girl's thighs relaxed and separated before giving her back her will. He wanted her awake for this, to see how things would be between them once she fully belonged to him.

Catherine instinctively tried to clamp her thighs shut when she came to, but Alucard had moved to rest between legs. She started to see him hovering over her, his long hair curtaining the room out and creating an intimate space of little more than six inches between their faces. Cool, bare fingers stroked over her jawline and throat.

"You belong to me," the vampire whispered, his fiery gaze boring into her. "You understand this?"

Catherine's eyes darted anxiously back and forth between his. She didn't know what to say. She supposed she understood his claim on her as a Bride, but the concept never got any easier to digest. Acceptance for something so big or life changing as this wouldn't come easy. He had to understand this. If he wasn't going to let her go, he had to be a little sympathetic.

"I'm scared," was all she could whisper. Her eyes watered.

Alucard was quick to thumb away the tear that trickled down her cheek. "Enough," he insisted. His voice held a harsh edge. "There is no fear between a husband and wife, and is that not what you likened us to? You must trust me in all things." He gave the girl a moment to absorb his words and compose herself. She closed her eyes, her face illuminated with the glow of his gaze.

Alucard admired the curve of her throat as she lay beneath him, and he briefly entertained the idea of feeding from her again. He leaned down and nuzzled into his Bride's neck, drawing in her scent with a long breath. _No... _He pushed away the aching in the roots of his teeth and contented himself with sucking gently on her skin. He was rewarded with a delicious whimper, and the sound aroused another hunger in him beyond that for blood.

Catherine's eyes flew open as the vampire's bare hand slipped purposefully between her thighs. She tensed at first, then tried to relax. _Trust_, she thought. _He isn't going to hurt you. _

She bit back an undignified sound and went rigid again when the cool fingers immediately sought her entrance. Alucard's lips moved with increasing enthusiasm against her throat, and between kisses and laps of his cold tongue he murmured to her in old Romanian. His rich voice failed to soothe her.

_Husband and wife,_ Catherine reminded herself frantically as the fingers stroked and circled over her warming flesh. Despite her anxiety, her body was more than willing to submit to the vampire's touches, and her hips moved of their own accord to match his rhythm. Heat began to bloom on her cheeks, and she closed her eyes again.

"_M__ai mult?" _Alucard said against her throat. His fingers danced around the jewel of nerves that ached so terribly, and Catherine gave a shameful moan. The vampire chuckled deep in his chest at the sound, his skillful fingers still avoiding her hips' grinding attempts to force the jewel into his touch. _"Mai mult?" _he whispered again. "Tell me. Say, '_te rog.'"_

"_Te- te rog_," Catherine gasped.

Alucard smiled and finally submitted to the girl's supplicating motions, quickly finding a pattern that had her arching into his touch. She moaned again, the sound so wanton and sweet that Alucard couldn't resist nipping at her skin. Blood beaded onto his tongue, and he groaned himself. When he spoke again, he didn't at all notice that he was rasping in broken English. "What you say now? '_Mulţumesc_.' Say it."

_"_Mool... tzoo-mesk..."

_"Cu plăcere."_

Catherine cried out as one long finger sank into her without warning. The cool intrusion slid deep, sating her heated desire to be filled, and began to draw in and out. Alucard went on whispering to her, only Romanian now, but Catherine didn't hear him. Her ability to focus on anything other than the cool sensation between her legs had dissipated the instant he pushed into her. Fisting the bedsheets, she gasped and let her head loll against the vampire's. The smell of rich earth and bitter gun powder made her head swim in the most pleasurable way, and she could have no way of knowing that Alucard was unintentionally pushing his own lustful emotions into her mind. The vampire was lost in himself as he pierced her throat again and again with tiny bites, slithering tongue catching every drop of blood that welled forth.

Catherine moaned as a second finger pushed experimentally alongside the first, the sting of its entry fading quickly as it moved back and forth. The skin of her throat throbbed hotly, punctured all over as it was, but Alucard's influence was swallowing her further and further. His tongue, cold and slick and inhuman, wallowed lewdly, deliciously, over her wounds. The fingers drove in and out relentlessly. The coil in her belly wound tighter and tighter. She couldn't take much more. But what was that sound?...

The bed. The bed was creaking softly. Catherine focused just long enough to realize that Alucard's hips were rocking against her now, mimicking the rhythm of his fingers inside her. The blurry thought flared an intense desire within her, and suddenly she didn't feel full enough. She fumbled for the vampire's belt line, receiving a surprised grunt. Then, to her distress, he balked from her as though she'd burned him, taking with him his cold tongue and practiced fingers.

"Alucard," she pleaded, still reaching for him as he sat up and away from her. The vampire easily caught her hands before they got hold of his pants again, his decidedly shaky laugh making Catherine look up at him in surprise.

"No no," he said, his voice amused but still not quite steady. "Not now."

"I want to," Catherine insisted, her own lust redoubled by the vampire's emotions. "Please, Alucard. I need it." She struggled against his grip on her wrists, hooking her fingers into his clothes and biting her lip in anticipation. An expression of agony flashed over the vampire's white face as she bucked her hips against him and pulled at his clothes. He groaned, straining to keep himself from grinding back against her.

He could do it now. His eyes flared as the idea danced manically in his mind. He could turn her now and they could both have what they wanted. Was she not consenting to him? He bit his tongue to try to satisfy the painful pulsing in the roots of his teeth, but it did nothing for the buckled restraint suit beneath his pants, which felt as though it couldn't get any tighter.

Yes. Yes, he would do it now.

"Alucard!"

The vampire looked down at the girl and realized she was on the verge of tears, still beseeching him in her sweet voice. Her dark hair was spread around her face like a halo, her pale skin flushed with desire. He could literally hear her heart throbbing and yearning for his touch again. But her eyes... Her eyes were moony and tinged with red.

_'... of her own free will,'_ the Master's voice reminded him.

Alucard immediately pried the girl's hands away from him, holding her wrists in a vice-like grip that made her wince. "Alucard-" she began, his name rising from her lips in a moan that made him shiver.

"No,"he growled at her. "Not now." Catherine's despairing look turned to a scowl, and Alucard was surprised when she tried to fight him and reach for his clothes again. His control faltered at the carnal look in her eyes, and the buckled suit abruptly felt another size too small.

He would have to finish this quickly.

The vampire easily transferred both her hands to his gloved one and pinned them above her head. He reached down and forced his fingers inside her again, drawing a yelp out of the girl. She writhed as he pumped into her, cries still pouring from her lips. She wanted him, she wept. She would do anything. She wanted him to take her like he'd taken her in the dream, wanted him hard and fast and rough and-

_"Enough,"_ Alucard hissed, his face the vision of misery. He slammed into her one last time, fingers sinking deep, and Catherine arched under him like a taught bow. She wailed his name as she released, and Alucard felt anguish in every fiber of his being that he couldn't join her. He trembled as he drew out of her, his lips twitching to stay closed over his teeth. The girl relaxed onto the bed, and Alucard leapt up to disappear into the bathroom, clenching and unclenching his fists as he went.

Catherine's mind cleared substantially as she came down from her high. She yanked her robe closed as soon as she realized it was gaping open, and sat up against the bed's headboard. She remembered everything distinctly, right down to her licentious pleas for sex.

Oh, God. She'd begged for it like a proper whore.

The girl drew her knees up to her chest and buried her burning face in her hands. She heard the running water switch off in the bathroom, and then the floor boards creaking under Alucard's footsteps. The lamp switched on beside her.

"Here."

Catherine raised her face to wince against the lamplight. Alucard was holding a hairbrush and a damp cloth out to her, his expression eerily blank. She hesitated briefly, then took the things from him.

"Thank you," she said as the vampire moved away from her. She dabbed at her sweaty face, and Alucard sat down on the bed to pick up his rumpled glove. He stared at it for a moment, almost resentfully, before tugging it on. A crimson light flared from the sigil, then died away.

"They have magic or something on them, don't they?" Catherine asked as she watched him. It felt good to fill the awkward silence, so she kept talking. "Does the magic keep you from taking them off by yourself? Is that why you had me do it?"

An emotion flickered across Alucard's features so quickly that she almost didn't see it, and then his white mask-face twisted in irritation.

"Brush your hair and get dressed," he ordered sharply, "then get your things and move them to my basement."

Catherine lowered the hairbrush and blinked at him. "What?"

"You heard me."

"But why-?"

"Because you're a fool girl," Alucard snapped, "and you can't protect yourself. Do you want to be kidnapped again? Now go, and get your things. Have Walter help you." The bed shook slightly as he jumped up and stalked toward the wall. Catherine tried to clamber after him.

"Alucard, wait!"

The vampire materialized straight through the wall with an uncanny warping of shadows, Catherine meeting the wall with her hands a split second after he had disappeared. "Alucard!" she called, slapping her palms on the wallpaper. She rushed to the bedroom door and threw it open, hoping to intercept him in the hallway, but it was empty. The vampire had vanished like smoke.

* * *

><p><em>"Mai mult." <em>- More.

_"Te rog."_ - Please.

_"Mulţumesc_." - Thank you.

_"Cu plăcere."_ - You're welcome.


	13. Chapter 13

I wrote this chapter entirely from Alucard's point of view, and I liked the way it turned out. Some backstory here, some hints at things long past, and some smut because I felt obligated to provide it after a 5-month absence.

Romanian stuff:

_Taci – _Shut up

_'Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.'_  
>(Matthew 26:41)<p>

Enjoy. ;}

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

Alucard watched Catherine fling open the bedroom door. He wasn't standing more than five feet from her as she stepped out into the hallway and called his name, but of course she couldn't see him; he was little more than a shadow against the old-fashioned wallpaper.

She almost walked into him when she started off down the hall, and Alucard had half a mind to let her. He pressed close to the wall, though, and let her pass instead of grabbing her around the waist and spiriting her off to his basement or out into the night the way he so desperately wanted to. She moved away, peering into the dark places behind columns and display cases as she went. The scent of roses lingered behind her.

For a moment, Alucard wished he hadn't hidden from her. He wished that he had stomped away (how human that would have been) so that she could follow him and do or say whatever it was that she was going to. What could she have had to say?

"Alucard!" Catherine called again, angry now. "I know you can hear me, you bastard!"

Despite his irritation, the vampire felt the corners of his lips turn up at that. One would think that she hadn't the slightest idea what she was tempting when she shouted at him that way, but of course she did; he had shown her not all that long ago what he was capable of when he indulged just a bit of his temper. She had been terrified, but ultimately defiant even then.

And now here she was, stomping around and calling him a bastard.

It surprised him again how good it felt to experience irritation, anger after nearly a century of feeling almost nothing. It reminded him of times long past when he had indulged his every emotional whim, never suffering a consequence until he'd nearly brought about his own permanent destruction. That experience had sobered him like cold water over a drunkard, shocked the violent and wild emotions right out of him. Abraham had been overtly pleased with his sudden reticence back then, mistaking it as a step toward humanness and submissiveness after all of the torturous spells and training; the man didn't understand that the lack of outward emotion was borne purely of Alucard's own self-pity and loathing at the realization that the thing he had traded his humanity for, an invincibility against any consequence, was still unattainable to him.

_A man is in control of his emotions,_ Abraham had said once, speaking slowly to him as if he were dim-witted child. _A monster is not. _

May that man's bones rot in the furthest depths of Hell.

As if unconsciously spiting his old enemy, Alucard indulged a rare whim and made himself visible. He watched Catherine go to the end of the hall, clench her fists, and then turn back. He whipped around a split second before, giving her the impression that he was walking away, and she shouted at him to stop. Her voice was rife with frustration, her pounding heart and footsteps suggesting that she was running after him. Alucard desperately hoped that all of this meant she was upset enough to provoke him.

"Stop!" she said, her heartbeat closing in on him. He smelled the sweat on her skin, and he wanted to taste it. "Hey, I'm talking to you! I said _stop_!"

Alucard turned abruptly, waiting until he knew that she was close enough to almost run into him before he did it. He gave her a sharp look that he only half-felt, and was more than pleased when she recovered from her initial shock and leveled a glare at him all her own, one that she probably thought was especially nasty but made him want to laugh.

"You can't just do that," she snapped at him, her arms rigid at her sides. Alucard huffed derisively.

"And what is _that_, exactly?" he said, making his voice all ice and disdain. He had used that tone a lot Before, and it still came easily to him. Catherine scowled and blushed furiously at his words, inciting a deep pulsing in the roots of his teeth. She gestured wildly with her hands, stuttering through her rage.

"Th-that!" Alucard laughed scornfully when she couldn't articulate anything else.

"You enjoyed every second of it," he said with a smirk. "You begged me for more." The girl blushed harder, and he grimaced at the redoubled pain in his teeth. He was aware that it probably looked as though he was baring them at her. Let her think that.

"You ran off like a fucking _coward_!" she snapped, and Alucard's eyes flared with true anger.

"_Taci!"_ he snarled, losing himself briefly at that disgusting word. Catherine didn't know how lucky she was; a century ago he would have cracked the back of his hand across her face, or worse, for calling him such a thing. He was able to restrain himself now, but the desire was certainly there, and he took an unintentional step forward. Catherine compensated with a quick step back, but she clearly ignored the threatening gleam in his eyes.

"I don't know what that fucking means," she shouted at him. "You don't get to do shit like that! You don't get to treat me that way, and then act like an asshole when I call you out on it!" Despite the almost unbearable itch spreading across the back of his hand, Alucard felt a heated surge of desire. She was undoubtedly furious with him, and the feral expression on her face showed it. She looked good like that.

"Catherine-" Alucard started, but she dared to cut him off.

"_Vlad." _She spat his true name in mockery like it was venom on her tongue, like she was wielding an especially terrible weapon against him. He flinched before he could stop himself, and her wild eyes lit up with victory. She couldn't know that his physical reaction was as much from pleasure as from surprise.

"What?" she taunted. "Don't like it when I call you that? _Vlad?_" Her smirk faded when he took a slow and deliberate step forward, closing the distance between them easily. Her apprehension suddenly tinged her sweat with a trace of sweetness. Had she been truly afraid, the sugary scent would have been overwhelming to the point of making his jaws ache.

"On the contrary," he told her softly, "I'd like to hear you say it again. But… without the poison." The dark edge he'd allowed into his voice had set her heart to thumping furiously, and he felt his mouth gush a little at the liquid chorus of her rushing blood.

His Bride pressed her lips into a firm line and looked him right in the eye, the jut of her chin promising disobedience. "Vlad," she hissed, but it didn't have the same bite to it as before. Alucard snaked an arm around her back, noting with pride that she didn't pull away or give any hint that his action was rattling her, aside from the little skip that her heart did. She offered no resistance as he cupped her chin and tilted her face up further to him.

"Again," he said, his voice low and coarse. It was exhilarating to be the one giving orders as his eyes burned down into hers, lighting her pale skin with a crimson glow. She was trembling now, her blood roaring in his ears, but there was no intoxicatingly sweet fear to her scent. She licked her lips and swallowed, the smooth curve of her throat bobbing. When she said his name again, her voice was almost as husky as his.

"Vlad."

Alucard lowered his mouth, allowing his cold lips to only hover over hers. He could see his gaze mirrored in her eyes, reflecting infernal light and heat back at him. It was something he had seen millions of times before, but this was the first time he found himself imagining that this was the last thing many of his victims Before ever saw, right before he hypnotized them to paralysis, pushed their chins back, and ripped into them. Women had been especially susceptible, oftentimes melting like butter under his smothering presence before he worked any of his black magic on them. He missed their fluttering heartbeats, their silky skin and keening cries.

Catherine was not melting under him, but her heart was fluttering. He ran his hand down her arm, wishing that the fabric of his glove wasn't in the way, and rumbled deep in his chest. She jumped a little at the sudden sound, her scent spiking sweetly to give her fear away. Alucard breathed deeply, and then felt a strange mixture of pleasure and disappointment when the scent dissipated.

"What are you doing?" his Bride whispered. Her hands had settled gently on his chest, as though she was unsure if she wanted to push him away or not. Alucard tightened his grip on her in case she decided on the former, and then grazed his lips from the corner of her mouth to her cheekbone.

"You told me you liked the name," he said. He could feel her pulse in his lips even though he wasn't touching her skin.

"I was half asleep."

"You were honest."

"So, what? You want me to call you Vlad now?" Alucard felt another thrill shoot through him as she said the name. No, _his _name.

"I forbid you to call me anything else," he murmured, ignoring her tone and focusing purely on her words. The glow on her face and in her eyes was no longer so harsh, having warmed to a deep burgundy with his pleasure. He read her carefully before daring to dip his face and kiss the soft skin between her jaw and ear. She gasped, and her blood thrummed against his lips under her skin, the close proximity setting the roots of his teeth to burning and aching the way it always did. This girl couldn't fathom what she did to him, and he had no intention of letting her know, just like he had no intention of letting her know that a part of him enjoyed her rebellious nature.

He initially decided that it was something he would break her of, the way he had done with Elisabeta. His first Bride had had a strong will, and it was that very thing that had attracted him to the idea of turning her. That, and her unearthly beauty. The woman had been difficult to break, especially after becoming a vampire, but eventually she came around to following his every order without hesitation, and without the threat of punishment. It was something he had enjoyed briefly, then grew bored of. Ionela came along shortly after, and he foolishly repeated the process, reveling in forcing the woman into submission until it was instinctive to her. And then there was sweet Crina, who had already been broken when he'd spirited her away. He had thought to put some fire into that one, but there was nothing to spark. He had regretted turning that girl the instant she'd cried when he'd shouted at her for the first time.

Catherine was not unlike Elisabeta with her fire and temper, though she cursed him a hell of a lot more than his first Bride would have dared, even before he'd crushed her spirit. He wouldn't make the same mistake with Catherine. To break her, to leave her unable to say anything but "yes, master" and "no, master" and kissing his boots all the time would be to ruin her. He would much rather hear her call him a bastard, have her fight him until he forced her into submission, and then let her go. He could do that again and again, relive the thrill of the chase as many times as he liked.

"I don't want to move into your basement," Catherine said suddenly, drawing him from his thoughts as he kissed her skin. He growled a little at the disturbance, but then thought better of scaring her. He changed tactics, running his tongue up her throat and making her knees buckle slightly.

"You don't have a choice," he said, promptly returning his mouth to the soft spot under her jaw. He wanted to bite her again. Catherine's hands moved up his chest, settling on his shoulders, and he prepared for her to start fighting him.

"But how am I supposed to get any rest?" she whispered, and Alucard froze, unsure if he had heard her correctly. His mouth made a soft suctioning sound as he released her skin and lifted up to look at her.

His Bride was watching him for a reaction, and he hadn't the first clue how to respond. He raided her thoughts quickly, finding that she'd meant the question as a joke… but only partially. That realization made his pupils dilate hard, and he saw a fearful look flit across the girl's face as she misinterpreted his lustful expression for an angry one.

Faster than her eyes could follow, he swooped down and kissed her. She gave a surprised cry as his lips covered hers, the sound so feminine and sweet that it made his blood boil. Without warning, he took several insistent steps forward and backed her up until she was flush against the wall. Catherine made another sound as he pressured into her pliant little body, all but smothering her under him, and then her hands were yanking on his hair. He growled again, but the sound lost its edge and became a groan when he realized that his Bride was kissing him back. His hands found her waist and pulled her into him, shamelessly grinding against her through her robe. She was soft and warm, and the sweet aroma of her fear had been replaced with something much, much sweeter.

"Hey!" she gasped when he broke the kiss and dropped to his knees in front of her. "Alucard-" He growled. "_Vlad, _what are you- ah!" He ripped the terrycloth bow loose from her waist and pushed her robe open, batting her hands away when she tried to stop him from spreading her legs. "Stop it! Don't-"

She made a strangled sound, like a cross between a growl and a hiss, when he pressed the flat of his cold tongue against the most sensitive part of her. So sweet... Her fingers tangled in his hair, clutching hard, and he ignored the pressure as she tried to pull him away. There wasn't anyone remotely close by who could interrupt him; they were all downstairs, busy preparing for the ball, and they would be up until the moment it started. He had plenty of time.

"Vlad," his Bride's voice came again, pleading with him now. He responded by giving her throbbing skin a light wallow of his tongue, and was delighted to feel her slip a little down the wall. It had been some time since he'd done this, and he'd wondered if he hadn't lost his touch.

"What's the matter?" he teased, pulling away briefly to peer up into her flushed face. "Can't stand on your own? Maybe I should hold you."

"Don't do this," she whimpered, ignoring his words. He grinned and ignored her equally when she protested his taking one of her legs and draping it over his shoulder, then the other. She squeaked in surprise as she straightened a little, lifting her up against the wall with her thighs on either side of his head. He gripped her legs firmly, giving them a reassuring squeeze before he leaned forward and swiped his tongue in a slow path over her heated flesh. His Bride gave a little shocked gasp, pulling at the fistfuls of his hair that she still held.

Alucard expected her to fight him until she was a squirming mess or until he had to hypnotize her, but after only a few moments her muscles began to uncoil, her legs going soft around him and her fingers loosening slightly in his hair. _Submission?_ He pillaged her mind quickly in his excitement, aware that he wasn't being careful and that she could feel him digging around in there for some hint of defiance. Nothing. A growl of approval rumbled out of him, and he rewarded her with a flick of his tongue over the bloom of nerves he had been artfully avoiding. His Bride whined, her slender hips bucking in an instinctive plea for more. He pulled away to avoid her, then darted back in.

Catherine tried to wriggle away from him when he teased her entrance by dipping the tip of his tongue inside, hissing something about "too cold." Alucard ignored her sounds of discomfort and delved deep, prompting a shriek and a valiant attempt from her to yank his hair out by the roots. Her body squeezed down on him, trying to force him out as he pushed until he met resistance. The sound she made when he hit her core was _delicious._

He gave an open-mouth chuckle and lashed his tongue along her inner walls, roughly stroking and probing and tasting until she cried out loud enough for him to wonder if anyone downstairs had heard. Despite his own desire to make the girl squeal, it wouldn't do them any good to be interrupted at the very beginning, and so he slowed his pace. He mapped her insides with light, careful swipes of his inhumanly long tongue, encouraged by her huffing breaths and little groans. When he glanced upward, he saw that her head was thrown back, her mouth gasping open. His darker thoughts ran rampant at the sight, and they made it difficult to not focus on that mouth and imagine how it was going to repay him.

He didn't realize he had slowed his pace further until Catherine muttered something and writhed against his mouth. The English words were a jumble to him, as they easily became when he was distracted for too long, but he was sure that whatever she said had been an order and not a request. Probing deep again, he punished her by pushing against her aching core until she made a sobbing sound and jerked her hips.

"Stop," Catherine gasped.

_No,_ he replied in her mind.

It didn't take long before her hips began to buck of their own accord. Alucard had withdrawn his tongue, to the girl's obvious relief, and had settled for slowly running it up and down her folds when she made a frustrated sound and tried to push her sensitive flesh into his mouth. He ignored her and kept up the slow, languid licks, even going so far as to press a hand into her middle to keep her from rocking her hips into his face. Her pulse accelerated, and he knew the combination of her scent and heartbeat well enough to anticipate her temper.

"_Fuck,"_ she hissed, tugging his head insistently toward her now. He opened his eyes at the aggressive sound and was thrilled to see her gritting her teeth. She pulled his hair again when he grinned smugly against her skin, fighting the hand that kept her flush against the wall. Her body was quivering. Alucard laughed, relishing the way that she went rigid when his cool breath washed over the most heated part of her, and then allowed her another tiny flick of his tongue. Her keen was enough of a reward for him to go ahead and close his mouth on her again.

He had been applying a gentle pressure to keep her against the wall, but his attention had slipped in the last few seconds. Catherine bucked her hips hard, rolling herself down against his tongue and catching him by surprise. She moaned, only barely avoiding cutting herself on his teeth, and Alucard was quick to retract his fangs before she did it again. The desire to punish her for trying to take her own pleasure rose in him, but he quelled it quickly and excused her behavior as a reaction to his own superior talents.

He couldn't excuse her, though, when she startled him with something that sounded an awful lot like a command for him to suck on her. His eyes narrowed upward and, sure enough, she was looking at him expectantly. Her expression was imploring, but still, he hadn't heard a request. He didn't mind giving her the impression that she had a little control sometimes, but he certainly wasn't going to let her get into the habit of thinking that she could order him into doing anything.

_Please, Master,_ he corrected her sharply. Catherine's face lit up bright red with the heat that flashed from his eyes, and her expression twisted anxiously. She shifted on his shoulders, her sugary fear flooding his senses, and then said in a hushed whisper:

"Please... Master..."

How beautiful that word sounded coming from her lips.

His Bride's fear vanished right away as he closed his mouth over her and sucked, the tip of his tongue rolling up to flatten against that pulsing jewel of nerves. She moaned, long and loud, and moved her hands from his hair to hold the sides of his head and rock him forward encouragingly. He let her this time, smirking inwardly at the scrambled mess of her mind when he took a peek.

Footsteps passed beneath them, and Alucard honed in on the sound in a flash of fury without stopping his ministrations. Whoever it was was headed toward the stairs. He rumbled ominously, livid that he wasn't able to take his time with this, and redoubled his efforts to finish what he'd started, sucking hard enough to make his Bride let out a squeal. He couldn't wait until she was moved into his basement, away from all of the potential and inevitable interruptions. Hell, he couldn't wait until she was turned so that he could put more than his fingers and tongue inside her.

He was pulled from his thoughts as Catherine cried out and went rigid, her thighs squeezing over his ears. He gave her long enough to cease shuddering, and then he was lowering her to the floor.

"Down," he ordered, already slipping her off of his shoulders. The girl stumbled a little, her legs still boneless from her orgasm, and clutched at him for support. She looked embarrassed when her eyes briefly met his, but he didn't say anything; he would chide her for the ridiculous reaction after the interruption was gone. Wordlessly, he tied her robe shut and pulled her away from the wall to stand beside him.

Alucard caught Walter's scent when he was halfway up the stairs, and he wondered irritably what had pulled the man away from his duties. Catherine asked him something, her voice small and breathy, but he was too lost in his thoughts to pay her any mind. He had a creeping suspicion, one that he very much didn't like, of what Walter had come here for.

"Oh, you're both here," the butler said when he rounded the corner and caught sight of them. Alucard felt Catherine's body temperature rocket, and when he cut his eyes at her he saw that she was blushing. She looked back at him, and he returned her embarrassed expression with an indifferent one.

_Stop looking like you were just ravished_, he projected into her mind.

"I basically was," she muttered back, but her tone conveyed no hint that she didn't enjoy it.

_I think our definitions of the word are quite different. Perhaps I'll give you an example later._

There was something tucked under Walter's arm that looked like a bundle of black fabric as he approached, and Alucard eyed the thing warily, his hand moving to hook around his Bride's waist despite her quiet protest. He would not read Walter's mind to confirm his own thoughts, as he'd long ago decided that the butler was the closet thing he'd ever have to a friend, but he hardly had to.

"I hate to give you such short notice," Walter said to Catherine, "but Integra has requested your presence downstairs in a half hour. This is for you, for the ball." He unfolded and held out the black fabric, revealing it to be a silk gown and a pair of long gloves. It all smelled of Integra.

Catherine let out a soft "oh" as she took his Master's dress things in her hands. "What ball?"

"Is her attendance really necessary?" Alucard said, the sharpness of his tone surprising the two humans. The idea of his Bride being paraded around a room to be gawked at by a hundred onlookers stoked his temper, but he understood Integra's reasons for it even as he asked the question. Hellsing's investors and affiliations wanted to see the newest asset, and that was that. He hated that word, _asset, _but he understood that to all of the humans who were pouring their money into Hellsing's coffers that was what he was, and soon what Catherine would be once she was turned. He figured that Integra already saw her that way after the girl's blood sped his healing and negated the need for a long sleep in his coffin after the barrage of silver bullets and a blessed blade. Another weapon, another slave, another asset that belonged to the Hellsing Organization.

Walter smiled almost sadly at him, as if he could read the vampires' thoughts. How funny. "I'm afraid she must go. But rest assured, she will be attended at all times."

"What's this about a ball?" Catherine asked again. Alucard sensed her excitement and scowled as the butler bowed again.

"Apologies, Miss," he said. "Today marks Sir Abraham Van Hellsing's 150th birthday. We are hosting a celebration and fundraiser, and many of our supporters will be in attendance. Integra very much wishes for you to be there."

"Oh. Well… why do I need to be there?"

Alucard gave a snort of approval and the butler ignored him, instead seeming to be thinking over his response carefully.

"You are important to Hellsing, Miss Catherine," he said at length. "There is no shortage of people who wish to meet you."

"Will _they_ be there?" Alucard asked before Catherine could speak. Walter nodded, his expression not faltering even under the vampire's glare; he knew it wasn't directed at him.

"We received confirmation from Seward, Harker, and Morris." Alucard rumbled ill-humoredly at the last name, and Walter smiled nonetheless. "Now," he said, turning back to Catherine, "I'm needed downstairs, but I'll be back to fetch you in a half hour."

Alucard watched him hurry away, unaware that his irritated expression had drawn into a dreadful scowl until Catherine looked up at him and let out a little gasp. He immediately smoothed his face to its usual impassive mask.

"Go and get ready," he told her. He would rather she didn't go at all, but the Master would be angry with them both if his Bride was late. Catherine looked surprised when he released her and began to walk away.

"Are you going, too?" she asked. "I mean, I'm not going by myself. Right?"

Was she hoping that he would go with her? Alucard stopped and turned back, his gaze falling on the dress in her hands. He felt a powerful desire to snatch it from her and tear it to shreds.

"I don't attend these things," he said flatly, dismissing the idea and turning away again. "You will have an escort. Walter, perhaps."

"Vlad."

He stopped.

"You… obviously don't want me to go. Is there something I should know about?"

He looked at her, studying the way her brow was knitted with anxiety. He couldn't remember the last time he had ever made a face like that.

"There's nothing to worry about," he said. His eyes flicked to the dress. "Don't let that skirt drag the carpet."

"Oh."

She readjusted the thing in her arms and then just stood there, shifting her weight back and forth and looking at his boots. Alucard made a clicking sound in the back of his throat.

"Go," he said impatiently, and his Bride jumped at the volume of his voice. He hadn't realized they'd been speaking so softly before. She hurried to the bedroom and disappeared inside, the skirt of the dress flowing behind her until she closed the door.

Perhaps he would tear that thing to shreds later.


	14. Chapter 14

Two chapters in a week? Call me butter, cuz I'm on a roll.

Shout out to** midnightisolde,** **Lady Ravanna, ****Mysfortune, ****Negum, **and **maniah **for all of their wonderful encouragement from way back when until now, and a fabulous thank you to **Viviidity **for bringing some _really _important things to my intention that needed clarification. That being said, check out a revised portion of **Chapter 6** for some new and important information about Alucard's relationship with Hellsing. The foreword explains where the revision is.

Keep up the beautiful reviews. Be critical. Make sure I don't leave shit out. It happens.

Enjoy~

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

The vampire screamed, his arms thrown over his head as he cowered against the stone floor. The beating didn't let up.

"_Say it!" _Abraham roared, bringing the silver rod down across every inch of his boney back. The metal charred his pale flesh every time it made contact, leaving scores of black, smoking lines. The cell reeked with the stench.

Abraham bellowed at him to stop covering his head and put his palms to the floor, an _order_, and his screams redoubled at the effort to fight the agony of the magic sigils pressing down on his mind. The weight was terrible, bending and crushing him in a place that he never thought could feel pain, and growing by the second. He burned all over from the silver, but the burning on the tops of his hands and on his chest became the most prominent as he refused to leave his head unprotected; if he opened his eyes, he would have seen the light from the brands bathing the cell in a red glow.

But the pain. The pain was all he could think about.

It wasn't until Abraham stomped down on the sigils, mentally grinding his heel into them, that the vampire could no longer keep his arms up. His palms slapped to the floor as though they were magnetized, and then the back of his skull was being battered with the silver rod.

"'_Master!'" _Abraham gritted, sweat running into his eyes from his efforts. _"Say it!" _ When all the beast did was screech, he screamed himself and brought the rod down particularly hard on the creature's grey head. The rod broke in half with the force, sending the vampire's face to bounce off the stone floor.

Abraham roared with fury and threw the snapped thing aside, his hand going to the whip on his belt. The beast recognized the hissing sound of the braid uncoiling and immediately scrabbled into a corner, trembling violently and covering his head again. Abraham stalked over with the whip in hand, making a mental note that he'd left the vampire a loophole by not telling him to stay. Ah, well. He should have known better.

The creature had little strength left when Abraham ordered him to stand and face the wall. He would not do it. The sigils burst into searing heat again, the weight on his mind threatening to crack it in two as Abraham dug in. What a mercy it would be to lose his mind.

"I said stand, _slave!" _

The vampire screamed as the weight tripled, sending him crashing to the floor. He wanted to curl into a ball to hide from the whip, but his body wouldn't obey him; all of his withered muscles were contracting, snapping his spine into an arc and throwing his head back. His jaws snapped painfully shut, overextended fangs sinking into his own gums.

Abraham lost his short temper and whipped him like that, bringing the wicked silver barbs down over his naked front. His flesh smoked, the wounds burning and splitting further open even after the silver had been raised away for another lash. The metal's poisoning tore through him, blooming spider webs of black veins around each wound. Through the mindless pain he could feel his blood, his precious blood, leaking out of him to pool in the cracks of the floor.

Abraham stopped swinging the whip when his slave could do no more than jolt and make a choked sound with each lash. The beast's front was a shredded, smoldering mass of skin from his neck to his feet, blackened and bloodied beyond anything recognizable. The mouthful of pig's blood he had allowed him two days ago oozed into the stones, and his hair was rapidly turning white. Abraham knelt down by the mutilated corpse's head and grabbed up a handful of the brittle, white hair.

"You are my slave," he growled, relishing the way the dull eyes regarded him with absolute terror and suffering. "You are to address me as Master. Until you do so, you will _starve." _

The vampire lay still as death as Abraham left the cell, slamming the door behind him. The lock didn't grit closed, but there was no reason to seal something in that couldn't move. He lay there, shuddering and staring emptily at the ceiling as he felt that he was minutes away from drying up, turning to dust and powdering away. The sigils were still crushing him for disobedience, and they wouldn't stop until he followed the human's order.

_Say it._

Would the human let him be destroyed? He had brought him to the brink a hundred times; locking him in that cage to bake in the sunlight, beating and whipping him with silver-plated weapons until they broke, starving him of blood. The human knew he couldn't heal without blood. The other times he had almost destroyed him the man had been sure to give him just enough of the precious liquid to keep him from turning into a husk, right at the end and often from his own wrist.

But this time the human had left, and he was closer to dusting than he had ever been before.

_Say it._

It was not the prospect of being destroyed that had the vampire attempting to rally himself, though he did not desire that, but the prospect of not being able to exact his revenge on the mortal. He had never craved anything so badly, and it was that reminder that had him swallowing his pride and summoning up the last of his waning energy. He mouthed the word that his tormentor most wanted to hear, thinking only in his native tongue so that the word was just a sound. A sound with no meaning.

Outside the cell, Abraham leaned against the wall. He listened intently as the vampire rasped, then croaked the word. His voice was cracked and near useless from screaming.

"_Massss…taaaarrr…"_ The beast's thick accent distorted the word badly, something that Abraham found distasteful, but that wasn't what made him scowl.

He slammed down on the sigils harder than he ever had before, jumping a little when the creature's raw voice tore upward into a broken scream. He listened to the word come again, sounding all the sweeter as it took on the pleading tone he had been waiting for. This sort of torture wouldn't kill the vampire, but it would remind him just what Abraham was capable of. The screams as he held the pressure became so inhuman, so high-pitched and deafening that the man finally winced and covered his ears.

The horrible sounds died out after a minute or so, before Abraham lifted any of the pressure, and he went back into the cell. He made a neat cut on his wrist with a pocket knife and crouched beside the vampire's head. The beast's eyes were clouded and vacant, like a man who'd been dead for hours, and the sigils on his hands and chest glimmered and smoked until Abraham bid them to stop.

"Drink," he ordered, dripping his blood onto the still, blue-tinged lips. The creature's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, then his lips parted to allow a long, withered tongue to snake out and catch the droplets. It was the only part of him that moved until Abraham lowered his wrist to the vampire's face, knowing that the sigils' magical, binding laws kept the thing from causing him any harm without a word, and let the vampire clamp his fangs down just enough to hold him still.

"Good, slave," he purred, stroking the vampire's hair as he whimpered and suckled like a sickly newborn. _"Good, Alucard." _

* * *

><p>Alucard sat in his basement room, idly grinding his teeth as he listened to the party chatter above. He could hone in on the voices separately when he really listened, hearing every word as clearly as if he was the person they were talking to.<p>

_The girl, _he kept hearing. _The girl _this, _the girl_ that. _Weapon. Investment. _

He snarled softly when he caught the word _slave. _

The ball-goers talked about him too, of course, but always in hushed tones as though they were aware that he could hear them. Many of them sounded afraid, asking one another if they had seen _the vampire_ anywhere since they'd arrived. He knew better than to think they were referencing Seras, and their fear stoked a warm pleasure in him. Fear was such a beautiful thing.

"Master?"

Alucard looked up and saw his Police Girl peering out of her little offshoot room down the hall. She was a good distance away from him, and speaking softly, but vampire hearing was so keen that there was no need for her to raise her voice. He grunted at her in question.

"I heard something," she said, venturing out into the hall. "Is something wrong, Master?"

"No. Go and sleep."

"I'm trying, Master. It's just… I slept all day, and the party is so loud."

"It is."

"Could I maybe… sit out here with you?"

"No. Go back to your coffin."

The draculina pouted a little at her Master's undeserved gruffness, but decided that she wouldn't enjoy his company if he was in that sort of mood anyway. Alucard rumbled as her door closed, counting down the minutes until Walter would take Catherine to the party. He had entertained the idea of attending the gathering himself, without being seen of course, to keep an eye on his Bride, but Integra had made it clear hours earlier that she didn't want him or Seras upstairs until all of the guests had gone.

His sharp mind only had to tick over her order for a moment before finding a loophole. It was a bit of a stretch, but he knew he could get away with it.

Integra still hadn't perfected the art of commanding him, much to his glee, but it really wasn't her fault; her father, Arthur, hadn't taught her a single thing. He hadn't ever intended for Integra to meet the vampire, let alone have to command him. Alucard folded his hands in his lap, half-listening to the party and half-remembering that night that Arthur led him down to the familiar sub-basement cell of horrors.

"You're locking me away," he had said to the Hellsing, his eyes glowing like lamps with his anger.

"Be silent," Arthur commanded, and the vampire's teeth clicked shut.

Alucard obediently put his arms behind his back at his Master's will, almost quivering with rage as the man strapped his wrists together, and then his legs.

"You are not to leave this cell in any shape or form until your Master permits you," Arthur said, his eyes meeting the vampire's fearlessly. They were a crystal blue, like Abraham's, but nowhere near as cold. "You are not to communicate with anyone or anything outside of this cell until your Master permits you. You are not to be free from these bonds until your Master permits you. You are not to feed from any creature, human or otherwise, until your Master permits you. Tell me if you understand, Count."

"I understand, Master," he said softly, though he was screaming on the inside. He could tell that Arthur never intended on letting him out of here again, and it was almost impossible to crush the desire to run from the cell. Arthur's eyes flicked briefly over the vampire's shoulder; the sigils on his gloves had flared as he entertained defiance to an order, but the red glow was extinguished quickly. The man left without another word, locking the door and leaving him in the pitch and the silence beneath the house.

Alucard spent the first year of his confinement pacing, the second sitting for lack of blood to sustain his energy. He tried everything to get his Master to come back downstairs to reconsider his imprisonment, but the orders were airtight; if he tried to scream to draw attention to himself, his throat sealed up to prevent communication. The only thing that he could do to gain his Master's notice was to press against the sigils. He did this as often as he could, throwing himself against the ancient spells until it caught Arthur's attention and he pressed back. The pain, as always, was molten and unimaginable, and Arthur never came down.

Alucard did his best to avoid looking at the gouges on the floor, the black stains on the walls, the tarnished silver barb lying in the corner. Ignoring these nightmarish reminders would have been so much easier if he could have buried himself in the silk lining of his coffin to sleep, but he hadn't been permitted his dearest treasure. No, sleep wouldn't come to him for another year when he finally withered to unconsciousness.

But he had been rewarded, in a way, for his suffering.

Integra understood her relationship with the vampire, but didn't understand the true connection between his power and hers. Unlike the previous Masters, she didn't know that it was possible to mentally pressure the sigils to force him into obedience. She also didn't realize that half the time she gave Alucard an order, he found a loophole to slither into or had her amend the order in some way. He had done both of these things cleverly when Integra had ordered him to not go after Catherine, to not turn her. He had blatantly lied to his Master, something he wouldn't have dared to do had Abraham, Arthur, or even Edward stood before him; he had claimed that he couldn't follow her orders even as he folded his hands behind his back to hide the glowing sigils on his gloves. The binding spells wouldn't allow him to disobey her, no matter what, but Integra had believed his lie. She had amended her order, leaving Catherine's willpower as the only thing to keep him from turning her into a draculina.

And the human will, as Alucard knew very well, could be easily broken.

The vampire drew out of his thoughts and listened intently for his Catherine's voice. It sounded not unlike his Master's, smooth and deep for a woman's voice. He picked the sound out easily and focused on it, following her around the ballroom as closely as if he were the one guiding her.

* * *

><p>"Holy shit," Catherine breathed. She had been expecting something swanky, but nothing like this.<p>

Hellsing Manor's ballroom was an impressive thing on its own, with a massive, domed ceiling that sported a mural of angels and demons at war, and a wall of arched windows that overlooked the moonwashed main garden at the back of the house. Integra seemed to have spared no expense, though, to transform the already beautiful room into something Catherine had only seen in movies. Real candles flickering in the chandeliers. Bursting bouquets of fragrant flowers. Tiny crystal goblets on silver serving platters.

And in the center of the room, a six-foot tall ice sculpture. Guests whisked around it in their tailored Italian suits and glittering gowns, all ooh-ing an aah-ing at it and raising their glasses in toast. On a raised platform in the corner, a small band played some soft swing song that made the whole scene feel more like a dream than reality.

The smell of flowers and perfume and expensive cigars became too much too quickly for Catherine, and she felt lightheaded.

"Are you all right?" Walter asked her suddenly, taking her arm as though he was afraid she'd faint. Focusing on him didn't help her to feel any better; he was wearing a sharp black suit and matching shoes that gleamed like mirrors. It caused her anxiety to prick up as she realized just how vastly underdressed she was in her old flats and lack of jewelry.

"I'm fine," she said, hooking her arm through the butler's. He smiled comfortingly and led her through the buzzing crowd, past the ice statue that she now saw was of a handsome, if austere-looking, man in Victorian-era clothing. As they moved toward some back tables with little candelabras on them, Walter had to politely brush off several attempts for guests to stop them, and each time those guests' eyes were on Catherine. She avoided their looks for the most part, sticking close to the butler and keeping her eyes on the polished parquet floor. Once, she made the mistake of looking over her shoulder; her stomach turned when she saw a group of people following them.

"You're shaking," Walter said, and she laughed uncomfortably; there were too many people here, and almost all of them were watching her.

"They're staring at me," she replied through her teeth, smiling tightly at a woman who was goggling at her like she expected her to sprout wings.

"You do look lovely."

"The dress does pay me a few compliments, I'll admit. But that's not why they're staring, is it?" The butler smiled down at her, his expression sympathetic.

"Perhaps not. But you're lovely nonetheless."

Catherine curled her arm tight around Walter's and pressed closer to him as they threaded through the white-clothed tables. He smelled like leather and tobacco and tea, and the warm scent was comforting amidst the assault of spicy colognes and bright perfumes.

The table that the butler selected was already occupied by a group of people, and they had a decidedly rougher look than the other guests despite their nice suits. A couple of them were sitting backwards in their chairs, and there was a spread of playing cards on the table. Catherine spotted a familiar face among them, one with tanned skin and dark, curly hair, so it didn't surprise her when the entire table snapped to their feet as she and Walter approached. Hellsing soldiers, every last one of them.

"To ensure no one bothers you too much," Walter winked, pulling a chair for her. Catherine took the seat, relieved to see that the group that had been following them had stopped at a respectful distance and was now dispersing. When Walter began to move away, though, she was hit with a brand new wave of anxiety.

"You're leaving me?" she cried, making her eyes as big as she could. It was only partially an act. The butler smiled again and patted her hand.

"Lieutenant Baykal will take care of you," he reassured her, nodding to the curly-haired man. "You won't have to leave this chair or speak to a single person the whole party if you don't want to."

And with a last pat on her hand he was gone, leaving Catherine with a chorus of skidding chairs as the soldiers resumed their places at the table. It didn't escape her notice the way the men closest to her moved their chairs further away before they sat down. The lieutenant was the only one who sat next to her, but even his posture was rigid.

"Miss Catherine," he said, nodding respectfully. His accent was thicker than she remembered. "I am Lieutenant Altan Baykal."

She folded her arms, nodding slowly and pretending as though she were assessing him. "Rabies guy," she said wryly, and the lieutenant raised his eyebrows in surprise. It took a moment before he finally seemed to understand her, and then his dark eyes sparkled with mirth. They were the shape of almonds.

"Ah, you're making a joke," he said, relaxing a little in his chair. "Forgive me, I had forgotten about that."

Catherine raised an eyebrow at him. "Yeah? Well, I didn't. Was that part of a script you were supposed to memorize, or did you make that masterpiece up yourself?" The lieutenant paused again as though he were analyzing her words.

"I'm afraid your humor is too dry for me," he said finally, his embarrassed smile instantly making her feel guilty. "I apologize again. My English is still improving."

"No, no, it's okay," she said quickly. "It's just a little funny to me, in kind of a sick way, looking back. I mean, rabies? Of all things?" She was relieved when the lieutenant finally gave a chuckle. It sounded rusty, like he didn't use it much.

"I did make it up," he admitted with a grin.

They made small talk for a while, Catherine being careful of how she said things so that Altan would understand when she was joking. He seemed to be a very serious man, so it surprised and delighted her when he caught onto her humor and cracked a dry joke or two himself. Her laughter and his smiling seemed to bring a sense of ease to the rest of the soldiers, who visibly relaxed more and began talking amongst themselves again. It wasn't long before their table was the loudest on that side of the room.

"Would you like something to drink?" Altan finally asked her, getting to his feet. She told him she would, and he went away to find her some champagne. Sitting by herself, Catherine leaned over to peek at the card game that the soldiers were playing.

"Is that poker?" she asked them, eyeing the chips spread over the table. They all stopped and looked at her.

"Yeah," the one closest to her said at length.

"Wanna play?" said another. The whole group looked at him, and the couple of apprehensive expressions that Catherine saw was enough for her to hold her hands up and shake her head.

"No, that's okay," she said. "I don't even know how to play poker. I was just curious." The soldier that had asked her to play raised his eyebrows and gave her a comically incredulous look.

"You don't know how to play poker?" he asked, and Catherine realized that his accent was different than the other Englishmen's, thicker somehow. She liked it.

"No," she said.

The soldier shook his head and gestured her over, drawing a chair from the table behind him and forcing the men to his right and left to make room for it. "Come on over then, love," he said. "You can watch me finish robbing this lot blind, and then we'll start a new game for you to play."

* * *

><p>Altan ducked his head and hurried between groups of people, a crystal glass in one hand and a small plate of canapés in the other. It had been almost fifteen minutes since he'd left Catherine alone, and while he trusted his men to take care of her he much preferred to guard her himself. He had been stopped at the long buffet table by a couple of his father's friends that he hadn't seen since he was twelve, and they had tried to fill him in on the past fifteen years of their lives despite his fervent apologies that he was on duty.<p>

"Oh, really?" the red-haired woman whose name he couldn't remember asked him, eyeing his champagne and pile of vol-au-vents. "Drinking at work, Altan?"

"Not for me," he replied, inwardly wincing at his bad Bulgarian. He struggled to think of how to say that the alcohol and food was for his charge, whom he needed to return to immediately, but he didn't have enough time. The woman laughed, flicking her hand at him; she wore too many rings and her nails were too long.

"For a _girl_, then! I just knew you would find someone, didn't I say so, István? Your mother and sisters, God rest them, would be so happy to know that you've finally moved on from-"

That had been a good place in conversation to leave. Altan turned away, not caring when the woman gasped at his rudeness and then called him a name he didn't understand. He didn't want to hear again how grateful he should be that his father's rich friends had pulled some strings and brought him to Hellsing's attention, and he sure as hell didn't want to hear some drunk floozy talk about his dead family.

He spied his charge through the weave of people, his scowl lifting when he saw that she was playing cards with his men. She laughed, the sound carrying over the chatter of the party, and he couldn't help but smile.

* * *

><p>Catherine hadn't drunk enough to be buzzed, but she was getting there.<p>

After the first man had summoned up the courage to come over and meet her, everyone realized that the soldiers weren't there to keep guests back. They had wanted to swarm her, Catherine could feel it, but they stayed polite and came to her in ones and twos, rarely threes, never giving the impression that they were forming a line to speak with her, but that they were each breaking away from the goings on of the party to be polite to her. It wasn't long before she was having to turn around in her chair so often that she had couldn't play cards anymore for the interruptions. She shook a few ladies' hands (in a limp, high society way), had her hand kissed once by an old man with a unibrow, and returned so many fake smiles that her face hurt. She got the sense that those people with the fake smiles were assessing her, wondering if she was worth their money. From others, though, she most often got two sorts of smiles; one that easily read _I'm so sorry this is happening to you_, and another that read _I'm sure glad I'm not you. _One woman who had been wearing the last sort of smile had almost said as much, right before Altan intimidated her away with a gruff clearing of his throat. Catherine tried to laugh it off when she was gone, but the girl found that she really did prefer the appraising looks to the pitying ones.

"Catherine."

She took a deep breath, meeting Altan's dark eyes as she did so, and turned round in her chair again. She was going to force a smile for the stranger who had spoken her name, but was startled when she saw the hard expression on his sharp face. She collected herself quickly as the man shifted his weight, almost impatiently, from one leg to the other. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, but was leaning heavily on a silver-tipped cane. A shock of grey ran through his chestnut hair, and his aristocratic brow was creased with deep worry lines.

"That's me," she said. The man stared hard at her, almost glaring as he made no move to take her hand or introduce himself, and she began to feel uncomfortable. She heard Altan's chair slide backward.

"Sir," he began darkly, but the man was already limping away before he could say anything more.

Catherine watched him go over to a table and take a seat with two other men, one of them wearing a cowboy hat of all things. She couldn't see the man with the cane talking, as he'd taken a seat with his back to her, but the cowboy's mouth was moving like they were holding a conversation. His eyes flicked to her, catching her staring, and he grinned broadly.

Altan was watching, and he stiffened as the cowboy pushed out of his chair and made a beeline for their table, all but swaggering as he walked. Then, to the lieutenant's shock, he clapped Altan on the shoulder as he passed by him.

Catherine blinked as the cowboy stopped in front of her and took his hat off to hold over his heart.

"Sorry 'bout that, ma'am," he told her, his Texas twang almost making her jaw drop. "Jack's manners ain't so good sometimes, but he's a decent man. I'm Jakob. Jakob Morris."

A small pain pricked the back of her skull when the man said his name, like the threat of an oncoming headache, but Catherine took no note of it. She accepted the hand the man offered her, her eyes enormous as she took him in. He flashed a brilliant set of white teeth as he squeezed her hand lightly and bowed over it. She could have swooned when she realized he had dimples.

"You're from the U.S.," she said, unable to contain her excitement. He looked up at her, clearly surprised by her own American accent.

"And so are you," he grinned. "Where from, Miss?"

"Dallas!"

The cowboy nearly threw his hat down.

"Ain't that right!" he exclaimed, smiling up to his ears now. His baby blue eyes positively glittered. "Tell you what," he said, "would you come with me for just a minute? I got a friend who'd love to meet you. He ain't American, but his manners are almost as good as mine."

Catherine looked over to the table Jakob had come from and saw the other man, not the one with the cane, sitting up in his chair to peer at them. He sat down quickly when he saw that she was watching.

"I guess that'd be all right," she said, moving to stand. Altan asked her if she would like him to go with her, his eyes fixed hard on Jakob. He was visibly bristling at the cowboy's presence.

"I'll take good care of her, friend," Jakob said before Catherine could speak. He offered her his arm, flashing another dimpled smile that could have made an angel weep, and led her over to his table. The man who'd been sitting up in his chair was on his feet before they were halfway there. The man with the cane didn't turn around.

"Miss Catherine," Jakob said, holding an arm out to the one standing, "this here's Quincey James Harker III."

Quincey nodded and took her hand; his glove was damp with sweat. "Pleasure to meet you," he said, smiling lopsidedly. He was certainly no older than her, but the way his hair was falling out of its wax to fringe over his eyes made him look like a teenager. Jakob gestured at the man sitting.

"And that there's Jack Seward, M.D.," he said. The man sipped his champagne and didn't so much as glance at her.

"Wait a minute," Catherine said, frowning up at Jakob. She looked from him, to Quincey, to Dr. Seward, and then her eyes lit with amazed recognition. "Are you-?" she began to ask Jakob. He lifted his chin proudly, tugging his bolo tie for added effect.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, his dimples showing again. "Descended from the one and only Quincey Morris. That Quincey there is Jonathan Harker's blood, and Jack is John Seward's."

Catherine didn't realize that her mouth was open until Jakob chuckled. "Oh god, I'm sorry," she said quickly, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. Quincey pulled a chair out for her.

"Would you like to sit with us for a little bit?" he asked, his boyish face hopeful. Catherine eyed the back of Dr. Seward's head cautiously, and Quincey followed her gaze. He threw a dismissive hand in the man's direction. Catherine smiled and sat down, Jakob falling easily into the chair beside her.

"So, are you?..." she let her sentence trail off, and Quincey picked it up.

"Vampire hunters?" he offered with his sweet, lopsided smile.

"Yes, ma'am," Jakob said with no lack of pride. "Every one of us. The best of the best."

"Well, Jack isn't out in the field much anymore," Quincey interjected, earning a venomous side-glance from the other man, "but he does a lot of other things."

"There's more than one way to stake a vampire," Jakob grinned at her, "and Jack's figured out just about every which way."

"Ah," Catherine said, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the turn the conversation was taking. Neither Jakob or Quincey seemed to notice, talking back and forth now about Jack's continuing experiments in vampire slaying. Dr. Seward, however, was watching her intently, and had been from the moment she'd shown discomfort. When he spoke up, the other men abruptly fell silent.

"Jakob," he said, so softly Catherine almost couldn't hear him over the buzz of the crowd. "Would you mind getting me some more champagne?" The cowboy blinked at him, his expression turning from surprise to doubt. Catherine watched him exchange a glance with Quincey.

"Perhaps the lady would like a glass, too," Seward pressed, his grey eyes like chips of flint. At that Jakob slid out of his chair, albeit slowly. He grinned at her to hide his apprehension.

"Back quicker'n a herd of turtles," he said with a wink. Catherine watched him go, tipping his hat and shaking hands. Not ten seconds passed before someone caught his sleeve and he threw his arms around them, pounding their back and guffawing.

"So, you're going to be a vampire," Seward said to her, and she looked back at him. He was still speaking softly, almost rasping; it didn't sound as though he were doing it on purpose. Catherine eyed him carefully, her palms beginning to sweat. She hadn't thought about this coming up in conversation.

"I haven't decided that yet," she said at length. She didn't like the way that the doctor was staring at her, scrutinizing her. His look suggested that he was imagining taking a scalpel to her and peeling her open like one of his test subjects.

"What makes you think you're special?" he asked suddenly, leaning forward on his elbows. Quincey made a startled sound.

"Jack," he began almost pleadingly, but the doctor ignored him.

"Do you think you mean anything to that monster?" he continued, his eyes bright and cold. "Has it spoken sweet words to you? Told you that it loves you, perhaps? Are you such an idiot as to believe it?"

Catherine's mouth fell open, her eyes widening in anger. "Who the hell do you think-" she started, but the man was already cutting her off.

"It will use you," he rasped. "Just as it clearly uses you now. What thoughts run through your feeble little mind when you see those scars in the mirror?" Despite her growing fury, Catherine unconsciously lifted a hand to cover the silvery rows of teeth marks on her throat. "It is a monster. A _demon. _And if it turns you, you will be a slave to it. More so than you are now."

"I am _not_ a slave," she grated, her teeth clenched painfully together.

"You're in denial. I've seen dozens of girls like you, seduced and manipulated into their own damnation by a monster in a mask. That is what Alucard is, Catherine. It is a monster-"

"_He,"_ Catheirne snapped before she could stop herself. The doctor wheezed a mirthless laugh.

"You see," he crowed. "It already has you thinking of it as a human, as a man! That's the first step." Quincey reached over and grabbed hold of Seward's arm, but he slapped him away. "You're nothing but a toy to it," he told the shaking Catherine, "just like all the women before you. You do know Alucard's history, do you not? Women are its obsession, just short of blood. It will use you, grow bored of you, and then _destroy you."_

"Enough, Jack!" Quincey shouted, standing up to loom over the man. His face no longer held any boyish charm.

Dr. Seward kept Catherine's gaze for a moment longer, and then he sat back in his chair. He looked away to take an hors d'oeuvre from the plate beside him, his mannerisms as calm as if their conversation had never happened. Catherine couldn't behave the same way. She continued to glower at him even after he stopped looking at her, her face red-hot. She was embarrassed, furious, and confused. Her mind was a whirling mess, trying desperately to make sense of everything that the man had said and to disprove it all at once. The pain that had flickered in the back of her head earlier had grown to a steady throbbing, and a rising part of her felt the urge to vomit.

"Excuse me," the doctor said, wiping his mouth with a napkin and leaning on his cane to stand. Quincey watched him limp away, his hard expression turning doleful. To Catherine's surprise he didn't apologize for Seward's behavior once he was out of earshot, but instead busied himself with picking distractedly at the tablecloth and looking anywhere but her.

Catherine was on the verge of getting up and going back over to her own table, where Altan was standing by his chair and watching her like a hawk, when there was a commotion at the doors of the ballroom. She looked over Quincey's shoulder, her skin prickling when she saw a group of what looked like clergymen entering the room, led by Integra. She was wearing a flowing black gown and a matching set of opera gloves, one of which was looped through a man's arm beside her. The man was tall and slender, with a spill of silver-blonde hair not unlike Integra's tied in a neat ponytail at his neck.

"Uh-oh," Quincey said when the group seemed to be headed their way. Catherine didn't like the nervous expression on his face when he turned to look at her. Jakob returned just as she was about to ask what was going on.

"The mackerel-snappers are here," he said, beaming with excitement as he put the champagne glasses down. "You must be really be somethin', Miss Catherine. Where'd Jack go?"

"Dunno," Quincey replied, standing up and turning to face Integra and her group. Jakob looked down at Catherine, his grin vanishing when he saw the stricken look on her face.

"Hey, now," he said, his voice all concern as he knelt beside her. "What's the matter?"

"What do they want?" Catherine whispered, not taking her eyes off of the advancing group. The man with his arm hooked in Integra's locked gazes with her. Jakob squeezed her hand, and she dragged her attention to him.

"They just wanna meet you, darlin'," he said, flashing his white smile. "Just like everyone else. Don't let 'em intimidate you." He stood up, holding her hand to help her out of her chair. They faced the group together, and Jakob settled his warm hand on the back of her arm.

She winced as her headache redoubled.

* * *

><p>Alucard took the basement steps five, ten, twenty at a time. The conversation continued to echo in his skull, driving his human appearance to slip. He could hear himself snarling like an animal, feel his fangs overextending to the point that his mouth couldn't close. His long hair writhed and whipped around him like a nest of snakes, and he looked for all the world like the wild nosferatu he had been only a century ago.<p>

"_I am Father Enrico Maxwell,_ the voice echoed._ "It is a pleasure to meet you at last."_


End file.
